bloody morning
by hecates
Summary: For every vampire, there is a vampire hunter. Her goal is impossible. Her reasons are irrational. Her mind is set. Camilla Willard has a bone to pick with the Volturi.
1. · The Prologue ·

_**Title:** Bloody Morning: The Prologue_

_**Characters/Pairing**: OCs. And Alec. And the rest of the Volturi. If you couldn't guess._

_**Summary**: For every vampire, there is a vampire hunter. Her goal is impossible. Her reasons are irrational. Her mind is set. Camilla Willard has a bone to pick with the Volturi._

_**Warning/Spoilers**: You'll see swearing sooner or later. Oh, and this occurs after BD. However, this is not a Cullen story. They will be mentioned, but not shown. Everything the characters say is in Italian unless noted otherwise. The Twilight world in this fanfic is blended between the movies and the books in the way I see fit._

_**A/N**: I wrote this because I could. As I simply hate the way Twilight!vampires are indestructible to human beings, I made them able to be killed by a special weapon and are able to be severely burned by holy water . . . because I could. 8D As long as the vampires sparkle and are almost impossible for humans to destroy, I'm fine with whatever weaknesses I give them. If you aren't, I'll smile._

_Also. Making this AU in only a few aspects because I could. Alec and Jane were seventeen when they were turned and have their movie!heights, because a kid taking down 1000+ year-old vampires is ridiculous. Jane just happens to have a high voice that sounds like a child. :P_

_Also, please forgive the air vent thing. That'll be the only majorly __unrealistic__, WTF-worthy thing in this fic, I promise. :D  
><em>

_Yup. Enough of my rambling, yeah? XD Beta'd by **Kaleidoscope Flowers**. Reviews are loved, but not necessary to my survival._

_**Dedication**: To Aly-la-Advisor, for putting up with my erratic PMs, questions and plot bunnies. Thanks for everything. :D_

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><p><strong>· The Prologue ·<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>I<strong> still remember the incident that ripped away every shred of innocence, ignorance and sense of security I had as if it were yesterday.

In actuality, it was six years ago.

I was eleven. We were on vacation in Volterra, away from our poor house in Potenza for once. "Mom," I sang, coming up to grab my mother's hand. She smiled and glanced down at me. "What's this place?" I asked with a gesture to the house that she'd led me to.

"This is our vacation house, dearest," she stage-whispered to me. In front of me was a two-story building made out of sienna-colored stone with a slightly reddish-tiled roof. It looked exactly like the other buildings I'd seen before, and I couldn't find anything remarkable about it. "Your father gave this to me as a gift. He built it himself, so we don't have to pay anything for it."

I smiled, finding that hard to believe. "It looks awesome, Mom. Better than the one that we have in Potenza. If it's free and we just have to pay the bills instead of the mortgage, why can't we move here?"

My mother's face became fearful. "Before he died, your father told me to _neve_r move here permanently, and stay away from . . ." She trailed off.

"From?" I prompted, raising an eyebrow. She pressed a hand to her forehead.

"I'm sorry, sweets. I don't remember." Her lower lip trembled and I gave her a hug. After the accident, my mother started showing the fact that she had a hard time remembering things—often they were little, like when Valentine's Day was or what my Aunt Chiara's hair color was.

I patted her arm. "It's okay, Mom."

"D-do you still run track?" she asked suddenly.

I blinked. Why did she stutter? "Why?"

"Just wondering."

"Yes, I do. Fastest one on the team," I boasted, gesturing down to my sneakers. "Bet you I can run to that lamppost down the street and come back in twenty seconds."

My mother chuckled. "Go ahead, dear. I'll be counting."

"Don't do the steamboat thing, but don't do _onetwothreefourfive_ either," I warned, sticking out my tongue at her. She smiled and nodded.

I took a deep breath and launched myself away from her. This place was a desolate neighborhood, our vacation house being the only building on the street, which was probably why my father had chosen it. I touched the lamppost at the corner and ran back to my mother.

"Fifteen," she said as I flew past her. I skidded to a stop, catching my breath and doing the breathing exercises in seven.

I smirked. "Told you," I said when I could talk without panting.

She continued smiling and took my hand. "You feel like going out sightseeing? It _is_ our first day on vacation."

I shrugged. "Sure. Let's go see what they have. I'm in the mood for some spaghetti."

The sky was overcast and the sun was nowhere to be seen.

My mother led me down the twisting turns of the street and emerged in the main square, in front of the clock tower. We had passed a pizzeria on the way, but I didn't mention it to her. She probably wanted to go to a nice, sit-down restaurant with me. Like she always did.

"Mom," I said suddenly, "Do you think anyone would miss us? I mean, we've only got each other."

She looked at me oddly. "Why do you think that, _cara mia_?"

"I don't know. Just wondering," I replied, shrugging. And then _she_ caught my attention.

A woman wearing boots, jeans and a figure-hugging red shirt was talking about something to a group of captivated tourists. The woman turned around to lead them to the building by the clock tower and stopped at the sight of us. She beamed, her creepy violet eyes glinting. My mother made a noise in the back of her throat and made a move to leave. I stood rooted to the spot, enchanted by her odd eyes.

She reached us before we could leave. "Hello. My name is Heidi. I'm giving a free tour of our magnificent city and I'm just about to go to the clock tower, then to the ruins. Would you like to join us?"

My first thought at seeing Heidi was that she was beautiful—inhumanely so. My mother relaxed at something, despite the fact that the shirt's neckline would've made her faint if _I_ wore it, and nodded.

"Um, Mom? What happened to going to a restaurant?" I asked, grabbing her arm, half-expecting her to start floating towards the tour guide.

She blinked, coming back into focus. The tourists behind Heidi continued talking, not paying attention to us at all. "Oh. Oh, right. Well, dear, I'm sure we can do that afterwards, hm? The wait will just make you hungrier, which is a good thing." She patted my head.

"Mom, I'm not sure this is a good idea," I warned. Heidi gave me the creeps. My mother paid me no mind and smiled at Heidi, giving a small nod.

"Are you sure this is free?"

"Absolutely," Heidi said. She turned to stare at me and I shivered. Those violet eyes freaked me out. Despite my protests, my mother grabbed my wrist and took a place at the end of the line. She didn't lead us to the clock tower—instead; we took a turn around it and went to a narrow, slanted dead end. I didn't even notice the manhole in the street until she helped a woman climb down it.

A man lingered by the entrance to the dead end and stared at us as we passed. He had blonde hair, a fair complexion, and yellow eyes that, if you looked long enough, seemed to glow in the daylight. What was with the people of Volterra and having strange eyes? I took a deep breath and tried lag behind with my mother. "Stay together!" Heidi cooed. My mother quickened her pace, practically dragging me along. "I don't want any of you getting lost. This _is_ a big place, after all."

She helped me jump down into the abyss, following after me. She pushed through the crowd and led us through the frighteningly dark corridor illuminated only by torches. "Now, this is one of the many passageways built during the late 1400s . . ." she began, walking forward and making gestures with her hands. Tourists raised their cameras to take pictures. It was dark, cold, and water hit my head every so often. I could hear tiny little squeaks and scratches—rats? With every minute, I grew increasingly worried. This was a very, very bad idea.

At some point we had to go through a door that looked like it was fit for a prison cell. Finally, we reached the end of the hallway and Heidi pushed open a thick wooden door, gesturing for us to follow her. We were led into a brightly lit reception room. It was warmer here, for which I was grateful. She nodded to the receptionist and went to another part of the hallway.

We followed her like lost puppies. At the end of the hallway were two sets of doors that I guessed to be elevators. Heidi pressed a button, summoning one. "We're just using the elevators for convenience. The real Etruscans had to use the flights of stairs. If you'll follow me, I'll lead you to the throne room used by monarchs of Italian city-states!" she called. We were forced to trail the cluster of tourists that instinctively went after her.

"Mom," I began when we left the elevators and entered the hallway leading into another furnished, modern lobby. A chill was starting to set in. "I want to leave. _Please_."

"Nonsense, sweets. I promise once we see the throne room, we'll go to the restaurant," she said with a vacant smile.

I bit my lip. I had a funny feeling that this wasn't going to end well.

Heidi threw open the doors—instead of a throne room, like I'd expected, it was another ornate hallway. She led us past several golden doors and stopped in the middle of the hallway, sliding a panel away to show a plain wooden door. She smiled at our puzzled expressions. "The residents of Volterra used this to hide from any invaders that got past their walls. This is where the throne room is. If you'll follow me, please?"

I wrinkled my nose. All of her explanations for things sounded like total bull, but the tourists were hanging on her every word. Typical—they were probably Americans who happened to know Italian. This was an unsettling tour.

She pushed open the door, ushering us inside. Seven other people were waiting for us, clothed in various colors that would've been nondescript on the street. Their anticipating smiles gave me shivers. As soon as I walked in front of the open doors, they slammed shut of their own accord and the eight went into action.

Screams echoed up around the room, mine included. I stood, rooted to the spot, as a brown-haired girl appeared next to a fat man and smiled at him. His knees buckled underneath him, and I could see his veins sticking out of his neck as he screamed in agony. She grabbed his head and attached her lips to his neck. I could only watch in horror, paralyzed, as extra blood trickled down the side of his throat. The man's tan complexion soon faded and she licked the stream of excess red, leaving a watery stain in her tongue's place. The girl dropped the corpse and went after someone who wasn't me.

I blinked, vision going hazy. None of those _things_ had gotten to me yet. I ran as fast as I could to the wall, far away from the monsters. I inched along the sienna brick, watching the carnage around me. Something bumped into my fingers and I looked down to see a large rusty air vent. It was the size of an outdated radiator, something that seemed like it had been built during its early stages. It was crazy, but people did this all the time in the movies.

I knelt down and pulled at the slats. Some of them crumbled at my touch, while others didn't budge. I looked back at the monsters and the screaming tourists, hoping the screams covered my attempts to escape. It was probably really stupid, but I didn't care. Any chance to get out of this place was better than nothing.

Finally, the rest of the air vent crumbled into dust. I sneezed, wiping it out. There was another scream and I turned, against my better judgment, only to see a blonde man bite my mother's neck. I had the sickening feeling that my heart had stopped, but a quick check of my pulse proved me wrong. My scream joined hers and the few others that were still alive. I wanted to run to her, throw off the blonde man, but I knew I couldn't. It was too late for her.

I crawled into the air vent, blinded by tears. It was a tight space, but I managed to keep going. The screams finally ceased and I stopped halfway through my escape, my shoulders shaking too hard for me to carry on. I started moving again, covering an inch or two every time I tried to move.

It was getting hard to breathe and I was starting to feel claustrophobic. I just knew I had to get out, away from those _things_. I inched my way up, kicking the sides of the vent and sucking in my gut sometimes to get through tight spaces. Finally, I crawled over another entrance to a vent. I couldn't see what it was, exactly, but it appeared to be a bathroom or something. I examined the slates covering the opening, trying to determine how to open this one. It wasn't as rusty as the thing I'd used escaped the room, so it probably wouldn't open or disintegrate as easily.

How did they do this in the movies?

I couldn't concentrate anymore. I was too worn out from the climbing and I was sure the shock would leave and I would start sobbing about the death of those people. Those poor, poor people—my mother! Heidi had led us into a trap, I was sure of it.

I laid my head down on the cool metal bars and closed my eyes.

* * *

><p><strong>I <strong>woke up to absolute silence and the scent of smoke. It made my eyes water. I stared at the opening in the vent again and suddenly remembered why I was there—to escape the _things_ that'd killed my mother. I turned over on my back with difficulty and kicked the vent opening with my feet, expecting it to fall open so I could drop to the floor with safety.

Instead, nothing happened.

I sighed and slammed the side of the vent with my fist, tears of frustration appearing in the corner of my eyes. Pain shot through my knuckles and I hissed, cradling my hand to my chest. After waiting for several minutes, I kicked it again and it made a squealing noise. I adjusted to a more comfortable position, and with new hope, kicked it with both feet as hard as I could. I probably looked like someone doing the Worm.

The noise of clattering metal echoed, and suddenly my feet were free. I was grateful that the monsters didn't pay much attention to their large, outdated ventilation system. Soon, by inching my way forward, it was just my torso keeping me put on the inside of the vent. Briefly, I wondered what the reaction of someone would be if they walked in and saw a pair of legs dangling in the room, but pushed that to the back of my mind. I was having a lot of luck so far, and I wasn't going to jeopardize it.

I closed my eyes and inched forward again. I fell slightly and got caught, stuck because of my middle. "Dammit," I muttered. It was the first time I'd used a swear word in my life. I closed my eyes, sucked in my gut and raised my arms, and suddenly I was falling. Metal chafed against my arms, making me wince. I hit the floor on my feet and collapsed when pain exploded in my ankles.

I waited for the shock to end, curled up into a ball. Eventually the pain of the landing faded, and I discovered red marks on my arms. When I could move again, I turned over and got on my knees, leaning over and vomiting on the tiled floor. The door opened and a man walked in, stopping at the sight of me.

I felt much better after throwing up. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, cleaned it with a paper towel, and limped to the door. "Get out of this place," I said to him as I slipped past the door. A quick look around told me that I was on a high floor level of some building. The receptionist's desk wasn't far away. I swallowed hard and looked for something that I recognized.

Giving up, I went to the receptionist's desk. "Excuse me," I whispered softly. She looked up at me, her expression patient but detached. She appeared unconcerned with my disheveled appearance. "Which is the way to the exit?"

She smiled at me. "Follow the right hallway around the corner to the first set of elevators. The lobby is two floors down, and exits to the street." I turned on my heel, not even bothering to give her a thank you. "Have a nice day!" she called after me.

As I walked, the surroundings started to click in my mind. I stood alone in the elevator and couldn't even smile at the cheesy tune. It only reminded me of Heidi's smiling face as she led us all to our deaths. I stepped out of the elevator when the doors opened with a small _ding_, and bolted to the entrance of the building as soon as I saw it.

I managed to wrap my hands around the door handle before a set of hard, freezing, strong arms wrapped around my stomach. "There you are, girl," Heidi cooed. I looked over my shoulder, my hands not loosening from the cool metal handles. Her violet eyes were more vivid than they had been when she was leading the group of tourists to their deaths. Her beauty was almost paralyzing, and that scared me. "Your mother's looking for you!"

She was lying. I tried to squirm out of her iron-like grip, but couldn't. "Tell her that I'm with my dad, then. She knows where he is."

Heidi frowned and let go of my middle, wrapping her hand around my arm instead. Cold seeped from her skin into mine. I couldn't help shivering—at both the temperature and the ferocious look in her unnatural eyes. "_No_. She wants you to stay with her for the rest of the tour and sent me to find you."

I started thrashing. "Let go of me, you monster!" I shrieked. "I don't want to die!" Her grip only tightened, prying my hands from the door handle. I pounded on the glass doors. "Those tourists—they're dead! My mother's dead! You're responsible for the murder of my mother and all those people!"

She looked around quickly to see if anyone had heard, hissing under her breath.

That was probably what had saved me.

The man I'd seen earlier, before we were led to the massacre, was outside of the building. He must've moved from the dead-end alley. Looking up at my shouting, he frowned and straightened from his casual stance. Heidi tugged on my arm and I wrapped my free hand around the door handle.

The monster reached around me to pry my hand off and I screamed as loudly as I could. She winced at the pitch and suddenly, the man was inside the building with a hand on my shoulder.

"She's with me," he said coolly. Heidi narrowed her eyes.

"Her mother sent me to bring her back. She's worried sick because her daughter's been missing."

"Tell her that she's with her father. We were supposed to go to a restaurant before you came along and asked them if they wanted to join the tour."

Heidi faltered. So did I. I hadn't seen him around the clock tower, so I had no idea how the heck he knew that. Lucky guess, maybe? I didn't care. I held on to my new lifeline, scared out of my wits.

"I didn't see you there," she purred. "So . . . darling." Oh. _Now_ she was using endearments on me. I narrowed my eyes. "Is this man your father? Do you recognize him at all? I can call security if you want."

I shied away from her cold skin and into the man's warmth. At first, it seemed too hot, but it was probably normal temperature. After all, I'd been held in Heidi's icy grip for such a long time. "Yes, he is." I lifted my head to stare at her dead-on, trying to keep a straight face. Whenever I lied, I usually smiled, but there was nothing funny about the situation now. Her expression soured.

"I don't believe you."

She reached for me again and the man punched her in the face. There was a sickening _crunch_ and cracks appeared on her cheeks and nose, like she was a glass doll. I shrieked, moving away from both him and Heidi. My back pressed against the glass door. The handles dug into my flesh painfully.

While Heidi was momentarily stunned, the man hoisted me up onto his back. "Hold tight," he muttered. I wrapped my arms around his neck and buried my face in the crook of my elbow. I heard the door open and then wind rush past us. Jeez, he must've been a fast runner. Something splashed onto my body, drenching me, and I looked up to see the man pouring some kind of liquid over his feet with one hand. Then he readjusted his grip on me and he was running.

I saw someone dressed in a dark gray cloak appear in an alley. The man swerved away from them and finally set me down at a gate leading out of the city. Sienna gargoyles stared outside gloomily. Fields and mountains stretched as far as the eye could see. "Can you run?" he asked me. Trembling, I nodded. More people dressed in gray appeared, looking around. I thanked God that the crowd was large today. They hadn't seen us yet.

"Then run. Go!"

I didn't need him telling me twice. I took off, wishing I'd put my long hair up into a ponytail. The man appeared next to me, not even seeming to be out of breath. He pulled me into a cave, where a shiny, red, expensive-looking car awaited us. I stopped, tilting my head and giving him a look of confusion. I'd been expecting a Vespa, not a car—only the ridiculously wealthy could afford one. He shrugged in response and opened the door. "If you want to live, get in the car."

I followed his orders without hesitation, slipping inside the backseat. He started up the car and waited in silence for a few minutes. "Okay, they went to the other side of the city." He floored the gas pedal and I closed my eyes, thanking God again that I'd had the sense to put on my seatbelt.

That was when I got over the shock and started crying.

I was embarrassed to cry in front of this guy, because I rarely cried—and when I did, it was loud, obnoxious and made my face red. I tried to quiet the noise as much as I could, but it didn't work that well.

He listened to my sobbing in silence. "How'd you survive?" he asked when I'd stopped wailing like a banshee. Now, I was sniffling, and I gazed at him with tears still dripping down my cheeks. "No one usually lives through the feedings."

I looked at him and wiped my nose with my sleeve. He added awkwardly, "Um, if you don't want to talk about it, it's fine . . ."

I shook my head. For some reason, I _wanted_ to tell him what had happened. He might not think I was crazy—unlikely as it was, there was still that foolish hope. "I-I'm the fastest runner on my team in Potenza. When I saw this girl drink the blood of a man I ran to the wall and tried to go unnoticed. Then I bumped into an air vent. It looked big enough for me, so I tried to get it open—it was pretty rusty, so peeling it apart was easy enough.

"Of course, I got stuck a few times. I kept crawling and eventually fell asleep. I don't remember how long I stayed in there, but when I woke up I realized that there was another vent opening in the men's bathroom. Except I didn't realize it was the men's bathroom. I kicked the thing open and managed to get out . . . but my mother didn't. She's dead." I pressed my shirt to my nose, trying to stop the runniness, and sniffed again. If I thought about it, I was going to start bawling soon.

"You realize that _this_," he gestured to me, "should've been impossible, right? Unless you managed to turn into a hamster or something." He gave me a glance. I snorted.

"It was the size of an old radiator. I'm not going to wonder how this happened when it was supposed to be impossible. Maybe the palace was built in the Baroque period, when everything was big and fancy, and when they modernized it they wanted to keep it in the feel of things? It worked in the movies."

He grunted. "Yeah, in _Toy Story_ something—when the characters were the size of your hand."

I crossed my arms over my chest, sniffling and wiping my nose with my other hand every so often. "Well, it doesn't matter. I'm alive, right? God probably smiled upon me." We lapsed into silence and I settled for staring out the window.

Then it occurred to me that I was in a car. Alone. With a man who I didn't know anything about, going to a place I didn't know existed.

"Who _are_ you?"

He chuckled. "Isaac Randall."

"And where are you taking me?"

"My evil lair where I can keep you prisoner for the rest of your life." He smiled at my bewildered look. "Relax. I'm taking you to a safe house. It's wise to not go back there again until you know what you're dealing with. I live with this co—erm, family. They'll take you in, I'm sure."

I stared at my reflection in the window, curling a strand of straight brown hair around my finger. "Then what _am_ I dealing with?" I asked. He looked at me and I shrugged in response.

"Surely you should know by now. You said the key factor yourself."

_I saw someone drink a guy's blood_.

"They can't be vampires," I said, shaking my head. "It's the middle of the day. I mean, the sun isn't out, but they should be sleeping in their coffins or something."

He laughed. "Everything you know about vampires, save a few things, is a myth."

I furrowed my brow. "No fangs?"

"No. Their teeth are sharp enough to break skin without the need of fangs."

"Crosses? Garlic?"

He smiled at me through the rearview mirror. "Nope. Garlic is kind of like a skunk smell to vampires, if that makes sense."

"Holy water? That's a myth, too?"

"It depends on who it's blessed by," Isaac answered. I bit my lip. "The only one that has an effect on vampires is the type that's blessed by the Pope. Not only can it hide your scent from vampires, but if you throw holy water on a vampire, it burns them. Vampires don't know of that because they're cocky bastards. When they stopped being affected by regular holy water, they automatically assumed that there was only one type and that it didn't hurt them."

I closed my eyes and started crying again. He continued driving in silence. When I looked up, I asked, "And I don't suppose sunlight hurts them?"

"No. They sparkle in sunlight."

"They . . . sparkle?" My tone was full of disbelief, and I winced at the nasal sound.

"Yes."

I paused, weighing my answer. Finally, I went with, "What the hell?"

"That was my first reaction, too." He smirked at me, yellow eyes shining. He didn't seem to be paying any attention to the road like he should've. I looked away.

"What kind of an excuse for a vampire . . . okay. This is ridiculous. Vampires aren't _that_ pitiful. How do I know that you're telling the truth?" I raised an eyebrow and pressed my cheek to the cool glass of the window.

"You'll see," he replied. "Oh. They don't sleep, either. That's why they have bruises under their eyes. Their eyes turn black when they're thirsty and red when they've just fed."

I nodded. "That's the only thing that sounds like a _real_ vampire." Something occurred to me. "Wait. If there are vampires, then are there . . . werewolves?"

He stiffened. I waited for an answer, and he finally sighed, "Yes."

"Let me guess," I answered sarcastically. "They aren't affected by silver bullets, turn into wolves at whim, and can shift forms in the middle of the day."

He slowed to a stop at a red light. "No, they're exactly like the werewolves you'd expect, save for the silver bullets. They are the natural enemy of vampires." He reached into something inside the shotgun seat and pulled out a pale slice of meat, chewing on it absently.

I swallowed and looked away, fighting down the nausea. The rest of the ride was in silence, only broken by the sound of Isaac's chewing. "I know how to fight vampires," he said at last. Before I could answer, he cussed and made a highly illegal U-turn, taking another sharp right at a dirt path. I slammed into the door, the seatbelt digging painfully into my collarbone. Dammit, I _knew_ he should've been paying attention to the road!

"And I could teach you," he said when we were driving safely again. "Believe me; despite how stupid they may sound to you, they're almost indestructible to someone who doesn't know how to fight them."

I laughed to myself. Yeah, I was playing along, but this Isaac guy was crazy. I mean, we all knew that vampires didn't exist. I didn't know what I'd seen back in the hidden palace, but it was definitely _not_ a group of vampires. It was probably some Satanic cult or something. I eyed the door handle and then the speedometer over his shoulder. He was going at eighty kilometers an hour. Outside, we were driving up a cliff. There was no way I would've been able to get out of the car alive.

I closed my eyes. Immediately, a picture of the blonde man killing my mother appeared and I opened them again. I would play along. For now. "I—I don't know."

"Don't you want to avenge your mother?" he pressed, glancing over his shoulder to stare at me. His face softened at my expression. "Sorry," he said, sounding sincere. "That was a low blow. It's just that . . . never mind. You can tell me whenever you want. I don't usually leave the house."

I didn't answer. We passed a vast forest before he pulled up into a large clearing. The dirt road turned to asphalt again, and I leaned around the shotgun seat to see what was ahead of us. At the sight, I gasped.

It was like something out of a picture of a wealthy Italian merchant's house. The walls were impeccably white, with columns everywhere. It was three stories high with a fountain in front of it. I'd never seen anything close to it in my life—I didn't know that they still had houses like these on the market. It shouldn't have surprised me, considering the fact that he had a _car_ and not a Vespa, but the sight still rendered me speechless.

He went around the fountain and stopped in front of the entrance. I unbuckled my seat belt and got out. As soon as my feet touched the cobblestone, the front doors were thrown open and two women—one a bewildered blonde and the other a chubby redhead—in their mid-twenties stood behind it.

They both wore a dark pendant with a five-pointed star, but each had a different jewel in it. The redhead had what I figured to be an amethyst, while the blonde had a sapphire in the middle of her star. At the sight of me, they paused and tucked their necklaces under the hems of their shirts.

Then they smiled at us and ran down the steps. Both of them had a turn to give Isaac a hug. The redhead pulled away to look at us, while the blonde hovered behind her shoulder, gazing at me in curiosity. I looked down at my sneakers in embarrassment.

"Who's this?" the blonde asked. I swallowed, suddenly unsure if this had been a good idea. "You brought a girl here, Isaac? What persuaded you to do this?" I looked up, ready to protest, but decided against it. She took her freaky eyes off of me and stared at him questioningly.

Isaac chuckled. "Ah, Sera, _calmare_. She's the first survivor of the feastings I've ever seen. A vampire caught up with her before she could escape and I saved her. I was hoping we could take her under our wing."

The redhead raised an eyebrow, but the blonde—Sera?—was the one who spoke. "We'll have to wait for Kiera to come back with Yoselin to make a decision."

The redhead glared at Sera, and added, "But until she arrives, the girl is our guest. Welcome!"

I swallowed again, refusing to blink. Sera pressed her lips together. "You poor thing," the redhead cooed, reaching for me. Instinctively, I shrunk away from her touch. Heidi came into my vision, her eyes bright red and her nonexistent fangs glistening, and I took another step away from the two. The car's side rear view mirror dug into my back.

"Odette," Sera scolded. "She's just witnessed a vampire feasting. A bunch of them must've tried to grab her. Goddess knows how she got away. Follow me, girl."

Odette smiled apologetically at me, and I nodded at Sera's command, too exhausted to protest. Goosebumps traveled across my skin, and I felt like someone was watching me—someone who wasn't currently outside. I looked up to see a woman standing in a third-story window. She was staring down at me, her lip curled into a sneer. I squinted, trying to get a better look at her. Before I could point her out to the others, the black drape she was holding fell back into place and she was gone.

Isaac put a hand on my shoulder, guiding me forward, and I remembered where I was. I shuffled after Sera and Odette, putting the mystery woman out of my mind. "So what are _they_, then?" I asked Isaac in a whisper. Much to my disgust, my voice still shook. He knew what I meant. The two women started a conversation, not paying any attention to us. A smile played on the corner of his lips.

"We've already covered werewolves and vampires. You couldn't guess yet?"

I swallowed again. "Oh, God."

"They're pagans, actually."

"You're telling me that—that _witches_ exist, too?" I felt like I would faint. This was happening too fast and was too impractical for reality. This had to be one big joke . . . or nightmare.

He nodded. "They exist in covens all over the world. It can get confusing, as the witches and vampires use the same word to describe the groups that they live in. I tend to call the bloodsuckers' groups clans, if that helps."

We entered the mansion and walked down the wooden hallway. For a house filled with witches, the décor was rather plain. There were a few pictures of people hung up here and there, but there was nothing that would suggest this family was abnormal, which I found odd.

Odette stopped in a room that looked like a kitchen. "Would you like some hot chocolate?" she asked, her voice the epitome of politeness. I shook my head and she looked up. "What was that?"

"No, thank you," I said. My voice was hoarse from crying in the car.

She nodded, looking concerned. "What about you, Isaac?"

"Nah, I'm good."

Out of the corner of my eye, Sera turned around. "Odette, I'm going to show our guest her room. I'll be right back. Follow me," she said to me. I nodded and trailed after her. She went up a flight of carpeted stairs and down a winding hallway. I looked at the other set of stairs with open curiosity. They were painted white, and the door that would've hidden them was open. Finally, she stopped in front of a door and pushed it open, revealing a fully furnished guest room. "We have four of these. Kiera will go with you to buy some clothes, should she decide that you are a guest and not a threat to be destroyed. Enjoy your visit here," she murmured.

"_Grazie_." Sera left me alone. The room had a gray carpet with baby-blue wallpaper. Everything else was darker blue, black, white or wooden. I went over to the bed and sat down, being left alone with my thoughts.

I don't know how long I stayed up there.

Eventually, the pillow started to look inviting. Memories of all those people being murdered and left for dead kept me from trying to sleep. I stared out of the window. Night was approaching. I wouldn't even blink if I could help it.

Was this my way of dealing with shock? Stay as still as I could and try not to close my eyes? I never had had a reason to be in shock before, if this _was_ shock. I could hear people walking past my door, and Odette brought me a grilled panino at some point. I didn't eat it.

I hadn't even realized I'd fallen asleep until my own screaming woke me up. As soon as my eyes opened, the only thing I could see was Heidi and the blonde man leaning over me, taking turns to drink my blood with savage grins. Someone pressed a hand to my forehead and whispered in a raspy voice, "Ssh, ssh! People are sleeping, child."

"What?" I mumbled, sitting up and staying as far from the pillow I could. I rubbed my eyes before I saw her—the one who'd watched me from the window.

She was the exact stereotype of a witch that people came up with, but without the hat and the wrinkles. Her skin was sallow, as if she'd never been in the presence of sunlight. She wore a dress that had a plunging neckline, tied together by strands of black fabric.

Her hazel eyes were surrounded with excessive black makeup. Her dark brown hair was curly and a handful of it was pulled up into a bun. The rest trailed down her back. There wasn't a jewel in the middle of her necklace. Candles were lit everywhere in my room—candles I hadn't even realized were there.

I swallowed, keeping my eyes steady on the clock above her head. It was a little past midnight. "Who are you?"

She smirked at my cold panino, and then looked back at me from across the room. "Allow me to introduce myself, child. I am Anastasia, second Enchantress of this coven. I wondered how you'd be able to cope with witnessing the death of so many people, including your mother." She raised her hand and inspected her nails.

I narrowed my eyes. As far as I knew, she hadn't been there to hear our conversation, and Odette, Isaac or Sera didn't bother to fill her in. "How'd you know about me escaping the monsters' feast?"

Wait. No. I didn't believe in this . . . this insane thought that the whole _household_ had: the belief that vampires, werewolves and witches existed. It was one big nightmare. I pinched myself and winced. Okay, so maybe I was awake. That didn't mean that it was real. Vampires were mythical. So were witches and werewolves.

I chanted the myths to myself mentally: Witches were old hags that had broomsticks. Vampires burned in sunlight. Werewolves turned into wolves during the full moon. Witches had pointy hats. Vampires drank blood. Werewolves were killed by silver. Witches—

All of these stereotypes passed through my mind in a minute. She hummed, jolting me out of my thoughts. She also ignored my question, looking up and smiling in a way that gave me unpleasant shivers. "We welcomed you to our coven, expecting you to be a productive member of this household, because Isaac asked Kiera to keep you. But instead, you start to plague us with your screams. I placed a charm on your door so that the inhabitants of this house wouldn't be awakened by the noise." She sighed, like she was doing some service that I should be grateful for.

Anastasia walked up to me and leaned down until our noses were almost touching. Her icy breath washed over my face, and I couldn't help wrinkling my nose. "I'm the outcast of this coven, you see," she said. "Because I am _exactly_ what a witch is supposed to be. I call it . . . embracing my heritage. They want to fit in to the incompetent human society." She laughed. I flinched at the sound. The room went silent as she settled for staring at me. Uncomfortable, I looked at the window and picked at the comforter.

"So. I heard you're too cowardly to try to fight the Volturi," she murmured. I glared at her.

"Too cowardly? What the hell are you talking about?"

She clucked her tongue, grinning. "Little girl, don't you know anything about respecting your elders? And yes. A little birdie whispered in my ear that you're just going to be hiding, away from the Volturi. You'll never try to give them a taste of their own medicine for killing your mother, too."

_Too_? What did she mean, _too_?

She straightened and sauntered away from me. "Excuse me? You don't know anything, okay—" I began.

"Hmm," Anastasia sighed, cutting me off. "It appears the little birdie was right."

I narrowed my eyes and looked away, memories overwhelming me and making me queasy. She snickered. "What's the Volturi?" I asked her before she could make a comment on my behavior.

She didn't look at me, inspecting her nails instead. "The vampires that killed your mother and the tourists. That's what they call themselves. Volterra is their capital, the vampire world their kingdom. And they must be crushed. You can only do that with the proper training."

She clapped and began to move towards the door. She let out a wild laugh and turned back to me with an expression on her face that I deemed to be a smile. "Oh, well! I guess they'll just have to destroy more families than they already have, and never face justice from the Goddesses . . ." She put her hand on the doorknob. I bit my lip.

"Wait," I said. She paused and I continued chewing on my lower lip, mulling over my options.

This Anastasia was right. She was a freak, but she was logical. They _did_ destroy families—mine included. But vampires were supposed to be indestructible to a regular human . . . unless they were taught how to fight them properly. There were _always_ vampire hunters in the myths; why couldn't there be any in reality, too? I could learn from Isaac—he'd seemed to know what he was doing when he punched Heidi and escaped Volterra with me. "Is Isaac awake?"

She nodded. "He's in his gym. Used to be a basement, and then he came around and turned it into a workout place. I can show you, if you so desire."

"Thanks." I stood up as she opened the door. "How long is that charm going to work, anyway?" When I stepped outside, she waved her hand and all the candles were extinguished at once. I shivered and turned away.

"As long as you live here," she replied. "As I already stated, Kiera, our coven mother, decided to keep you instead of kill you. So I suppose I should welcome you as a temporary coven mate. Welcome to the de Luca coven." Her smile was so large it looked like she was grimacing. She actually scared me a little bit.

When we reached the first floor, she opened a door that I'd originally assumed lead to a linen closet. Instead, there was a flight of steep steps. "Down there," she told me, "is the gym. Have fun."

I swallowed and stared. Her smiling grimace disappeared. "Don't tell me you've changed your mind and want to run away with your tail between your legs."

I shook my head and went down the first two steps. She closed the door behind me. Swallowing again, I continued on my journey until I could hear deep breaths and the sounds of something being hit. When I made it to the ground floor, Isaac paused in his workout.

"Who's there?" he called out. "I know you're there. Your footsteps were as loud as shotgun blasts."

I poked my head around the arch. "Me," I answered meekly. He relaxed a little bit.

"Oh. You. What do you want?"

"I wanted to talk to you about your offer . . . to teach me how to fight the vampires," I said, my voice hesitant. I still couldn't believe I was doing this. "I mean, I know I'm only eleven, but I can learn how to fight! I can learn what hurts them and how to sharpen my senses, and who's who—"

He chuckled, gesturing for me to come forward. When I did, he laid a hand on my shoulder. "Are you sure you want to devote your life to this? It's very dangerous and the action can be a little slow. The training is demanding and takes years to complete. Few humans have ever succeeded in killing a vampire."

I looked up and met his gaze. "I want you to teach me how to kill the bloodsuckers."

* * *

><p><strong>T<strong>hat was six years ago.

I am not oblivious to the supernatural.

This is a tale of the hunter, and of the hunted, and how they both applied to two different people. It isn't a happy tale. It, as of yet, doesn't have an ending. It won't _have_ an ending until I succeed in my goal.

My name is Camilla Willard.

I will be the one to destroy the Volturi.

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><p><em>Written for <em>_**Project PULL**__. Are you WTF-ing yet?  
><em>

* * *

><p><em>Italian wordsphrases:_

_Cara mia – my darling (to females)_

_Grazie – thank you_

_Panino _–_ sandwich (plural: panini)  
><em>

_Calmare – calm down_


	2. · The First Chapter ·

_**Title:**__ Bloody Morning: The First Chapter_

_**Characters/Pairing**__: Alec, OCs, and the Volturi._

_**Warning/Spoilers**__: There shall be swearing. Post BD._

_**A/N**__: Beta'd by __**Kaleidoscope Flowers**__. Here's the first chapter. I hope you like it. Alec will show up next chapter. :D Reviews are loved but not necessary to my survival. And if you're Italian and have any advice for me, I'd love to hear it, because . . . research can only take you so far. XD Also, check out Twilight Woods' story __**Fictional Reality**__. Really cool. ^_^ Love you, Aly!_

_**Dedication**__: To you, and you, and you. (And yes, you too.)_

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><p><strong>· The First Chapter ·<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>I<strong> was prowling in the dark forest, my footsteps silent, my senses alert. After two years of studying inside and an extra three spending every day fighting inside the gym, we'd decided to take my training outside in the forest. My teacher—Isaac Randall—wasn't going to be easy on me on these tests, where my skills he'd trained me to hone would be used in reality.

After all, if you wanted to kill a vampire, there was a ninety-nine percent chance that they would kill you first.

I backed into a tree, looking around. It was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. My heartbeat pounded in my ears. A twig branch snapped on my left and I darted to the side, slashing out with my two teak knives.

Instead of catching flesh, like I'd hoped, they only sliced through the air. I lost my balance and was caught by a pair of abnormally warm arms before I could hit the forest ground. The barrel of an unloaded gun pressed into the column of my throat. "And you're dead," my teacher said gleefully. I scowled, straightening up and dusting my pants off.

This _always_ happened, even though I'd just recently turned seventeen. It was starting to make me question my abilities, wonder if I could become a successful vampire hunter of the coven of my choosing. He'd made me master balance, prowess when walking, information about every vampire coven in the world . . . and now we were taking my skills to the actual battlefield.

I turned around, only to be greeted by a floating gun. I rolled my eyes and held up my hands in surrender. "Anastasia," I called, "you can lift the charm now."

I heard snickering from somewhere in the forest and Isaac appeared in front of me as if someone had pulled off an invisible blanket. Sometimes Isaac asked Anastasia, an Enchantress witch, to hide him from sight so as to hone my other senses more. To the human eye, vampires moved too fast to see.

She appeared from the shadows, smirking. "You didn't do much better than you have every other day for this year." She brushed a strand of curly brown hair away from her hazel eyes. I glowered at her.

Six years, and I still didn't know much about Anastasia other than that she was a witch, an outcast in her own coven, and slightly insane. No one was allowed into her room and her door was locked whenever I tried to take a peek.

I narrowed my eyes and turned slightly to my teacher. "Again," I demanded. Isaac shrugged. The witch raised her arms to cast a charm and I interrupted, saying, "No. No charms. Isaac has all the reflexes and abilities of a vampire anyway."

She shrugged and backed up, disappearing into the darkness again. I counted to five as Isaac ran to another place in the forest for me to ferret out. "Ready or not, here I come," I teased, gripping the handles of my knives. Teak was the strongest wood in the world, or so my Teacher said, and the coven had been able to get a shipment of three of them for me. The steel outlining their edges was so sharp it was supposed to cut the skin of a vampire (and cut off a finger of a human if there was enough pressure), and I had to sharpen them every month. If I ever lost them or was disarmed by a vampire, I could reach up the back of my shirt and pull the third knife from its scabbard.

Again, it was too quiet. I looked around for Anastasia, but she must've put a charm on herself again, as I couldn't see her at all.

I moved through the forest, my eyes sweeping the ground every few seconds. There was a fast movement and I jumped out of the way as my teacher bolted from the underbrush in an attempt to "kill" me. When he darted past me, I swung my arm and pressed the flat side of the iron-lined teak knife to his neck and pushed up, halting his movements. It was a timing that I could've achieved once per year. "You're dead," I whispered, stepping back and letting him breathe.

Anastasia appeared next to my teacher, her skin actually looking healthy underneath the light of the waxing gibbous. The sound of her slow clapping echoed throughout the forest. "Very nice. Very nice, indeed," she murmured, gazing at me with a raised eyebrow. Isaac's face broke out into a grin.

"That was fantastic, Camilla!" he praised. I blushed and smiled. A feeling of warmth spread through my body—it was rare when he complimented me, and when he did, my ego grew a little bit.

"Can we do it again?"

He frowned and looked up at the sky. The moon was covered with clouds. "I don't think so, kiddo. It's getting late." He scratched his stubble. I sighed. "You should get some sleep," he added.

I shook my head, not meeting his glowing yellow eyes. "I'll just get nightmares," I mumbled.

"That's what the sleeping pills are for," Anastasia remarked. I cut myself off mid-laugh. Seeing that my teacher was actually serious about us stopping for the night, I sighed and turned on my heel, heading for the mansion.

Anastasia joined me. Isaac stayed behind. I glanced at him over my shoulder. He was staring thoughtfully at the moon. The full moon was tomorrow, and he always acted weird about it. I looked away and continued walking. "So . . . what's the difference between a charm and a spell?" I asked, looking for a topic to talk about.

She did her smile-grimace thing. "A spell is much, much more powerful than a charm. Charms are for minor things, like summoning; but to cast a spell would to be casting something that is permanent for an indefinite amount of time. You could ask an accomplished witch to make nice, but it would require some kind of reward."

I nodded, thoughtful. Witches were sly creatures. If you went to a witch, asking for anything you wanted—to 'make nice' is what they call it—they usually had a price, which could be anything they wanted.

I'd seen plenty of women go to Kiera asking if they could place a spell on the woman that their husband was cheating on. The funny thing was that it was permanent, they didn't know the difference between a charm and a spell, and Kiera never corrected their mistake.

Ha. I never asked Kiera what happened to the victims of the spell.

I hesitated in my step and then strode forward again. Anastasia didn't even slow down to wait for me. "Why does Isaac act up around the full moon, Anastasia?" I asked. This theory had haunted me several times when I'd woken up from my nightmares, and I had a strong suspicion that I was right.

She snorted. "Why do you think?"

"Werewolves exist, I know that, but is he one?" I asked quietly. She shook her head. I wasn't sure if it was a move of exasperation or an answer.

"Poor child. You keep your nose out of others' business and I'll tell you anything you want to know, got it?" She stopped. "There's the mansion. Have fun sleeping."

I sniffed and trudged to the front door, slipping past the door and into the living room. Kiera was hunched over a book, making notes and sniffing the air every so often. I raised an eyebrow. Anastasia came in behind me and coughed. "Kiera."

The oldest witch looked up and gaped at me. "Turn around!" she scolded. I obeyed immediately. Kiera de Luca wasn't the leader of this coven for nothing. After a couple of seconds, she said that I could turn around and the book was gone.

"Was that . . .?" I trailed off. Kiera nodded, blowing brown bangs out of her face.

"The Book of Spells," she said with a sour expression. I immediately felt guilty; no one that wasn't of witchery descent was allowed to see the Book of Spells or the contents inside.

"I didn't see anything," I said. "Your arms were covering everything."

She didn't look convinced. Anastasia put a hand on my shoulder. "What are you cooking up now, Kiera?" she asked.

A slow smile spread across the witch's face. "The usual. A woman came to me today asking for a spell that would make another woman that her husband was cheating on her with look repulsive. She agreed to pay the price—seventy-five euros."

Anastasia snickered. I stared, horrified. "A spell? Doesn't she know the difference?"

Kiera shrugged. "No, she doesn't. She thinks the charm and the spell are synonymous. The consequence of this will not concern me. It is her choice and her stupidity."

I closed my eyes, feeling sick about the anonymous woman's fate. "How was your training?" she asked after a silence.

Besides Anastasia, Kiera was the only witch in the coven to know of my late-night meetings with Isaac to train in the forest. I shrugged. "It was okay. I managed to kill Isaac twice."

She smiled wryly. "Out of how many times?"

"Twenty. You need to sleep, Camilla," Anastasia said firmly.

I scowled. "I don't want to."

She sighed and her hand tightened on my shoulder—a subtle warning. I massaged my forehead and turned to go up the stairs, shaking off her hand. They didn't follow me as I stomped up to my room. Odette, Yoselin and Sera were sleeping, so I didn't slam the door like a child.

I rubbed my face, staring at the bed, uncertain. There wasn't a night that I hadn't had a nightmare. They were varied: some had Heidi biting me and my death as a result, some had an anonymous boy pushing me off a cliff and others were composed of Isaac exploding into a wolf and attacking me.

The most terrifying nightmares, though, were the ones that repeated my memory of me watching my mother's death.

Anastasia would check in on me at midnight, to see if I was asleep. This I knew for a fact, as she told me that she did so one night. I stared at the bottle of pills I hadn't touched. They didn't stop the nightmares, but they did keep me from screaming. The first time I'd taken the pills, it was like being drugged. I had a hard time moving, and I was drowsy a few minutes after taking them.

I guessed that was what was _supposed_ to happen, but I didn't like the feeling of it. I figured I wouldn't be able to get out of this one, so I grabbed an extra pair of pajamas and the bottle of pills.

When I was ready for sleep, I climbed back onto the bed and closed my heavy eyes. Sleep claimed me instantly.

* * *

><p><strong>W<strong>hen I woke up at seven the next morning, Yoselin was in my room with a bright smile. "Are you ready for Spanish, _mi estudiante_?" she sang. I groaned and sat up. My lessons were composed of French and Spanish every other day and reading two notebooks that Kiera had transcribed.

What surprised me was that Kiera was three hundred and fifty-two years old, while she only looked thirty-five. I knew that witches could have a lifespan as long as some vampires, but I thought that they usually looked their age. Instead, you take the age they've given you and you multiply it by ten, and you're almost spot-on.

"No," I admitted sourly, not getting out of bed. My Spanish was near perfect, but she still insisted on making me speak it like I was a native. French was the language I had trouble with. "Can we skip the lessons today? I'm not feeling well."

She raised an eyebrow, and this time she responded in Italian. "I want to help you study. Your test is in three days, you realize. Then Isaac makes the decision. Odette will be on your case if you try to wimp out of it like you're doing now."

I snickered. "You're right, you're right," I muttered, finally getting out of bed. "Let's get to work."

Yoselin took a lunch break and I moved over to the notebooks sitting on my desk. I pushed the thought of the full moon out of my mind and went to the First Aid notebook. Kiera was known to give pop quizzes on random days and she hadn't done First Aid yet; even though Sera wrote that notebook, Kiera thought it was her duty to make sure I knew the material.

At some point, Odette brought me some cookies and we proceeded to have a conversation in French. When I glanced at the clock, it was barely past 2:00. Time seemed to mock me, the way it was moving so slowly.

"Odette," I said slowly. Yoselin hadn't come back yet. "How long has your coven known Isaac?"

"Since I joined the coven in 1996," she replied, grabbing a cookie and munching on it. "He's like a brother to all of us. Why?"

"Is there anything . . . odd, about him?" I asked. One wrong word and she could clam up on me. The French redheaded witch was kind-hearted, but fiercely loyal. Odette scratched the side of her nose that had the piercing in it and gazed at me warily.

"Why?"

"Just wondering." I shrugged and took a bite out of the cookie again. "He just seems tenser around the full moon, is all. I was wondering if there was something wrong with him."

She smiled. "You're getting better in French," she praised. "You only stumbled over a couple of words. Soon you'll be a natural."

"You didn't answer my question," I reminded her, biting back a smile.

Her smile faded. "Oh, there's nothing wrong with him. He's always like that. It's natural, trust me."

I nodded. There was only one theory that I had been developing since last May, when he didn't show up for the coven's evening celebration of Beltane, the first of the two main Sabbaths of Witches.

My theory was that my teacher was a werewolf.

The fact that the witches refused to talk about Isaac and his increased eccentrics during the full moon period strengthened this belief. Tonight, I was determined to find out if he was one. I wouldn't have been surprised if he was—hey, I live with witches and train to fight and kill vampires; it would only be natural to have a werewolf as an instructor on how to destroy vampires.

"Okay," I said after finishing my third cookie. "Just checking. I've never actually met a werewolf, so I wouldn't know what their characteristics are."

She tilted her head in acknowledgement. "I realize that. Your curiosity is justified, but will get you nowhere in places it doesn't belong."

With that, she stood up and left the room, shutting the door behind her. I furrowed my brow and stared at the door, wondering about what I'd said to offend her. I shook my head after a while and turned back to my reading of the First Aid notebook.

Once I was done with the notebook, I loitered around the room, mentally quizzing myself on the things in the notebook. When I had nothing else to do, I went to my bookshelf to look for something to read. I was bored out of my mind, and couldn't wait for night to fall.

I sulked around the mansion for the rest of the day, until Sera snapped at me: "If you're not going to do anything productive, then you might as well catch up on some sleep where you're not bothering anyone. Someone will wake you up for dinner."

I grinned sheepishly at her. She pointed the wooden spoon at me threateningly. Actually, it was a pretty good idea—with sleep, I'd be energized and refreshed and I'd also pass the time. I stole the alarm clock from Yoselin's room and plugged it into the empty end table, setting it for 11:30 PM.

Then I got dressed into my pajamas again and took a sleeping pill. No one came to tell me to come down to eat, and I had to get up and cross the room to turn off the alarm clock when it woke me from my druggie haze. It was annoying and made me glad that I didn't have to get up to go to school every day.

Ha. I blinked away the sleep-induced haze and got dressed into the outfit I'd worn before I went to bed again: a T-shirt, jeans and light jacket. I waited for the house to go quiet. I had to sit still for thirty minutes for the witches to go to bed.

It was just past midnight by the time I could poke my head out of the door safely. The house was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. I crept downstairs and opened the door that led to the gym. Nothing. No pounding of punching bags and heavy pants. It was as dark as upstairs. I blinked and opened the front door, slipping outside and leaving it unlocked behind me.

I sprinted to the forest and waited for any sound. Finally, I whistled a single call of a bluebird. Nothing. I whistled the signal again. No sound.

Behind me, a branch cracked, and there was a low growl. I felt something move to the side of me and turned around, suddenly fearful. This had been a mistake. I should've listened to the witches. Now Isaac would probably attack me and not realize what he was doing.

If this _was_ Isaac.

The growling continued, and a shape stirred in the darkness. Underneath the moonlight, a pale, sand-colored wolf-like creature emerged. Its face had the classic narrowness of an Italian wolf, but there seemed to be _five_ fingers on its paws, and it had a hunched walk. My breath caught in my throat.

"Isaac?" I whispered, backing up. A furious snarl ripped from the wolf-thing's throat and I winced. Yup. The wolf was definitely him. If I wasn't dead by the end of tonight, Isaac would personally kill me for going against his orders. "Yeah, that's what I thought. Sorry, I was just curious. Now that I know you're a werewolf, I'll just be going now. . . ."

I wasn't stupid enough to turn my back on him. Instead, I kept moving backward, but he was fast. Before I could escape, he was behind me again. I turned around and gasped, tripping over my feet. I fell the moment Isaac leaped at me. I screamed and scrambled to my feet, moving backwards as fast as I could. The wolf-thing snarled and stalked toward me.

At that moment, I realized how stupid this idea had been. The wolf-thing howled and launched itself at me. I closed my eyes, waiting for the end.

A noise as loud as a crack of thunder made me open my eyes. A tree was snapped in half, with Isaac laying on it. He got up, growling, but another golden light slammed into him. At the same time, a weight crashed into me. I buckled under the sudden impact and smashed into the ground. I had to blink a few times before I realized who'd rescued me from Isaac.

Anastasia got up and pulled me up with one arm, shoving me behind her and holding up her arms in a fighting position. I backed up into a tree, hyperventilating. Isaac shook his body in one big spasm, and then roared in our direction.

She said something in a foreign language. The only word I could recognize was "Hecate" and even _that_ wasn't pronounced properly. Suddenly, I couldn't see my feet anymore, and her hands were alight with gold. The glow illuminated the whole forest and Isaac faltered.

She raised her hands and the glow spread out to ensnare Isaac. He whined and dug his claws in the ground. The light didn't seem to be hurting him, but he wasn't at ease, either. This was my entire fault. I swallowed hard, feeling useless. Anastasia turned to me and grabbed my hand.

"Isaac," I gasped as she pulled me away.

"He'll be fine," she replied shortly. "You, however. . . ."

I hung my head and jogged to keep up with her. She quickly pushed me, in a gesture to keep me going, and turned around. I stopped to watch what she was doing. She held up her hand, whispered another unpronounceable phrase, and the light that was around Isaac fled to her palm. She returned to me, the forest dark again with all the leaves blocking the moon, and grabbed my arm. "Come. We must go back."

A howl followed us through the door. A pang of guilt hit me, and I bit my lip.

Kiera and Yoselin were waiting for me. "You're lucky Anastasia saw you decide to leave," Odette said from somewhere in the living room.

Sera inspected me the minute I walked in through the front door. "You're . . . not hurt," she said in disbelief. I smiled weakly. I was lucky to have escaped with my life.

"He's my mentor. He wouldn't hurt me. Besides, he trained me. I was wise enough to stay far away from him," I said. Anastasia snorted at my lie. Sera wrinkled her nose and moved on to Anastasia. Then something Odette had said registered in my mind. I stalked into the living room. "Wait . . . you said something about Anastasia seeing me _decide_ to leave? What did you mean by that?"

Odette cussed in French under her breath. Kiera followed me and sighed. "Well. I should probably tell you, since you heard her." At this, she sent a glare at the redhead, who averted her eyes. Anastasia seemed very amused at the turn the conversation had taken and inspected her nails, a smug smile on her face. Under the house lights, she looked sickly again.

"Anastasia can see the past. Most of it. It's like an inversion to someone who can see the future. Once midnight passes, she sees every major decision that impacts lives important to her or will involve bad things—she's even seen historical events in action all over again. Some of the things she sees are absolutely horrific."

I felt sorry for the smug witch across the room. Was that why she seemed half-crazy? I thought of all the worldwide events that might've scarred her: The Holocaust, the North American vampire wars in the south, the many murders of people in medieval Europe, starving children, emaciated bodies . . . there were probably countless others. "Why?" I couldn't keep the horror out of my voice.

"I pissed Mother Hecate off," Anastasia said, interrupting Kiera. "At sixteen—when witches first receive their Siren Pentacle and choose their Mothers—I didn't know that I had to pick either Mother Hecate or her sister Trivia as one of our Mothers. In my original choices, she wasn't among them. Before the Crone could contact me so I could change my choices, she found out."

"To say the least, she was furious. She cursed me, saying I would never have a happy life—I was destined to take the burden of every gristly thing mankind has ever done, including the supernatural. That's how I knew about your mother. Don't mistake my coven for the type that informs me on every new happening. I find out about anything that's important anyway."

She smile-grimaced. I winced. That sounded like an awful thing—to be plagued by murders, deceit and lies every day. But this odd premonition ability of hers had most likely saved my life. I developed an interest in the blue carpet of the living room.

"And I'm going to be punished, right?" I asked sheepishly. Kiera narrowed her eyes and nodded.

"You bet you will."

"Oh, come off of it," Sera said. I looked at her and she rolled her eyes. "She was just curious. It's karma for Isaac not outright telling her. Nothing happened to Isaac, Camilla, _or _Anastasia, so I see no need to punish the girl."

Kiera massaged her forehead. "Go to your room, Camilla," she ordered. Oh, great. Now I was some child. Knowing better than to argue, I straightened and followed the command. Too bad I was too wired to be tired. I read books by lamplight until it was almost dawn and got dressed into pajamas, crawling back into bed.

My nightmare was different this time: I was running as fast as I could along a road, but I still saw flashes of sandy fur through the woods. Isaac slid to a stop in front of me, cutting me off. I gasped and he pulled his lips back in a snarl, revealing bloodstained fangs.

_You're going to die_, a disembodied voice whispered menacingly. Then a scream pierced the air, and I opened my eyes.

* * *

><p><strong>I<strong>saac was the first person I saw when my screams woke me up. He knew about my nightmares, but this time he didn't look concerned in the least. He looked furious. My books were gone, my mattress was flat, and my room resembled something of an empty white place. The witches must've enchanted it. I frowned and turned over, only to realize that I had pants on and I didn't have a blanket.

_Okay. Really?_

"Hi, teacher," I muttered sheepishly into the pillow. He sighed.

"Camilla," he replied.

"How are you feeling this fine morning?"

"Mad. At you."

I smiled. "That's what I kind of figured. I'm not surprised, though. I'd been nursing that theory since my third year as your student. I'm glad I found out the truth. I won't judge you or anything."

"You won't?" He sounded skeptical. I raised my head and snorted, burying my face into the pillow again.

"Teacher," I mumbled, my words muffled by the pillow. "I live with witches by day, train to hunt vampires by night. Of _course_ it'd be fitting, reg to have a werewolf instructor. It's not like I can kill you or anything anyway."

"You don't think that it's sickening that werewolves can only eat flesh, human or animal? You don't think it's odd that a werewolf's eyes glow the closer it gets to the full moon, and that they're yellow? You don't think it's scary that vampires and werewolves are equal in strength, and that I can snap you in two whenever I want?"

I rolled over onto my back and sat up, staring him directly in the eye. "I don't, actually. I trust you enough to not hurt me, nor do I expect you to feast on my flesh anytime soon. However, the skin thing does sound a little nasty. Not as gross as drinking blood, though." I grimaced.

He laughed. I smiled, relieved to have eased some of the tension. "So I suppose I'm still grounded, huh?"

His expression sobered at once. "Yes."

"Do you know how long I'm going to stay like this?" I gestured around the room. "Or is the point to drive me insane?"

He smiled. "Yes."

I wasn't sure if that was to my first or second question. I didn't think I wanted to find out. I groaned and flopped back onto my bed, not facing him. I heard the click of a door, and when I looked up again Isaac wasn't there anymore.

I scowled at the pillow and flung it across the room. It hit an invisible white wall and slumped to the floor. The second it touched the floor, white consumed it, making it undetectable. I'd lost my only pillow. "Damn it," I whispered to myself.

I was trapped inside my own room.

Well, _dammit_.

* * *

><p>"<strong>Y<strong>es!" I screeched, holding the thing that was supposed to be a doorknob. It just _looked_ like I was holding empty air, but I could feel the cool metal in my hand. I wasn't sure if it led to my closet or into the hall, but I wasn't going to give up this chance.

For an unknown amount of time, I'd gone without anything to do or anyone to talk to. I had a suspicion that the enchantment only put a white blanket over everything, only making the bed visible. It was designed to make me go insane or something, I was sure of it. I didn't even know what the time, day, or year was. I twisted the doorknob and flung it open—

—only for it to reveal a closet.

The color blinded me for a second, making black dots swim across my vision. When I could see again, I stepped into my closet and smiled. I'd magically had a change of clothes every so often, (and I was never hungry or had to go to the bathroom, somehow) but otherwise I stayed in my pajamas. It was starting to smell, too. Once I got out of my room, I vowed, I would cause their water bill to be ten times more expensive than it usually was.

I ran my fingers across the familiar clothes that probably didn't fit me anymore. Oh, yeah—I'd also make Odette and Kiera accompany me on a shopping trip. A slow smile crept across my face. This was going to be _fun_.

As soon as I stepped out of the closet, the color vanished into blank whiteness again, but it was too late. I already knew where everything was now. I took three long sidesteps to my right and hissed when my knee rammed into the corner of my empty end table. I cussed violently and held my knee, taking more sidesteps and reaching blindly for a doorknob.

Something cool met my fingers and I grinned in triumph, wrapping my hand around the doorknob and turning it. I flung it open and waited for the black dots to disappear. Even the mild gray-and-blue wallpaper was enough to make me dizzy.

I stepped outside into the world and smiled Everything was starting to come back to me. I turned down the hall and ran down the stairs. "_Bonjour_, Odette!" I greeted cheerfully. I didn't see the chubby redhead's reaction, because then a pang of hunger hit me. I straightened when the pain was over and went to the kitchen.

I opened the fridge, looking for something to eat. After not being able to eat anything for who-knows-how-long, I was ravenous. Bright sunlight streamed through the windows. The color seemed to overwhelm me at times, but I didn't faint. I smiled as Kiera walked into the room and dropped the newspaper she'd been holding.

"Camilla?" she asked. I nodded and lifted the almost-empty gallon of water to my lips. When I was finished, I went to raid the pantry. "I've been wondering when you would figure your way out of there."

"Wits are helpful," I agreed, taking out a box of cavalucci cookies and returning to the fridge. On the second time around, I saw some leftover lasagna and grabbed it. "How's everyone been?"

I hummed as I heated up the lasagna and went to get another gallon of water for my glass. "We've been fine, thank you. Enjoying the quiet while it lasted."

I looked up and stopped pouring a glass of water. "What do you mean, 'while it lasted'?" I asked, narrowing my eyes. The microwave beeped, signaling my meal was ready. I took it out, got a fork and started eating the leftover lasagna. Ha, I probably looked like a pig. That'll teach them not to put me under house arrest.

"Exactly what you think it means," she answered easily, sitting down and starting to read the newspaper. "Your punishment only lasted as long as it took you to find your way out of your room. Which reminds me . . ." She snapped her fingers and tilted her head as if listening to something. "Now, your room is back to normal."

"What?" I asked, confused. "I thought my punishment lasted only as long as you guys were pissed at me. I was expecting it to last, I don't know, a couple weeks?"

Kiera lowered her newspaper and grinned at me. "It's almost August."

I blinked. "And when did I get locked up? I don't know what day it is. I think you were trying to drive me insane."

Her grin was more profound now. "Early July. And us, wanting to drive you insane? Never!"

I shoved the rest of the lasagna into my mouth in response. She wrinkled her nose in disgust. "Where's Isaac?" I asked, spraying chunks of cheese onto the countertop.

"Down in the gym. As always."

I finished the last of the lasagna and downed the water, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. Then I reached into the box of cavalucci cookies and pulled one out. "Yeah. I'll see you later."

"Aren't you going to do the dishes?" she asked me as I flitted past her towards the gym entrance.

"No. You can do it," I replied, creeping up the stairs. I heard Odette's low chuckle before I reached the bathroom. Time to rob them of their money.

When I was dressed and properly showered, I went downstairs and stared at the door. I'd lost nearly a month of training, and I wasn't sure I could keep up with Isaac's fast reflexes anymore.

Isaac was pounding the punching bag, not even out of breath. It was a familiar sight and I smiled, creeping up on him. He turned around, his fists already and position. "What, did you think you'd really be able to sneak up on me?"

I relaxed. "Only if I'd been able to get away with it. You're getting slow in your old age, teacher. Usually you would've been waiting for me when I opened the door."

He rubbed his jaw and smiled. "And you've got a lot to work on now that you're out of that place, squirt," he replied, walking over and giving me a hug. "Welcome back to the land of the living."

I grinned. "It's good to be back. Can we start training now?"

* * *

><p><strong>W<strong>eeks later, I stretched and smiled at Anastasia through the mirror. She was sitting on my bed, examining her fingernails and sulking. Kiera was standing behind me, brushing my hair. "Are you sure you want to do this?" she asked, running a finger through my locks. "I love your hair. It's so pretty."

"It's the same hair I had six years ago," I replied. It was true. My hair had been past the shoulders, straight and dark brown. It'd grown over time and now it was almost to my butt. Sera had confessed to me that Isaac had been considering letting me go out on my own and I wanted a change. It was an exhilarating thought—I'd graduate from Vampire Hunting School and choose a coven I wanted to kill off. "I want a change."

Kiera sighed and continued brushing my hair. "You're lucky you're part of our family," she teased. "Otherwise you'd be broke by now."

I blinked. "You're probably right."

"What do you have in mind?" Anastasia asked, looking up for the first time. There was a plastic bag next to her. I shrugged.

"I kind of wanted lighter brown hair, just above my shoulders, and kind of wavy—and permanent, at least until I change my mind. Do you think you can do that?"

Kiera and Anastasia nodded simultaneously. "But why?" Kiera asked, frowning. "You look fine as you are."

I wrinkled my nose. If Isaac let me choose the clan I wanted, they would recognize me. Well, one leech in particular. "I just want a change. Is that a problem?"

"Get over it, Kiera," Anastasia said. She probably already knew that I was going to pick the Volturi if given the chance. They'd killed my mother, and they had to pay for it.

Kiera pursed her lips. "Very well. Close your eyes until we say you can open them."

I obediently followed the command. The witches started chanting in a language I couldn't understand, and a strange feeling of prickles came over my face. They danced over my scalp and I had a strange urge to scratch everything on my head. I was determined to let them do whatever they wanted to, though.

It seemed like hours of tugging at my eyebrows, lips and hair. The tingles grew strongest around my face and I could even taste a little bit of limoncello, even though I didn't drink. It was odd. The foreign chanting lulled me into a light nap.

"Open sesame," Anastasia muttered. I opened my eyes just as she threw a handful of glitter up in the air.

"Was that necessary?" I sneezed, scattering the shiny specks everywhere, and when I looked up, I didn't recognize the face in the mirror.

My hair was a mix of wavy and curly, and it touched my shoulders when I tilted my head forward. I touched the strands and smiled. I closed my mouth in shock at the sight, before realizing that they'd straightened my teeth, too. "Huh."

"_Huh_?" Kiera demanded, putting her hands on her hips. I snickered at her reaction. "Is that the best you can come up with?"

"Maybe," I said, my voice a soft whisper. "Just kidding, ladies. I look amazing. Thank you so much!"

I started to get up, but Anastasia held up a hand and presented me with the plastic bag. I took out a black fedora and stared at it. "Put it on," she urged. "I saw it when I was in Rome and thought it would've looked nice on you."

I nodded and put the hat on. Now I really didn't recognize the figure, although I couldn't remember what I'd looked like before this makeover. "Thanks, Anastasia. It looks awesome."

"There's also some makeup in there. Odette thought you would've liked some."

This, I was less thrilled at. "Uh . . ." I pulled out a thin tube of something and eyed it in disdain. "Um. Tell her I said . . . thanks?"

Anastasia snickered. "I will."

All of the witches fawned over my new look when I went down to eat lunch. Isaac wasn't there. I was slightly uncomfortable with the attention, but I ended up nodding, smiling and not talking at all.

We all cleared out and I sat on the couch in the living room, alone. The gym door opened and Isaac came up, holding a small booklet and a photo album. He disappeared and I faintly heard Kiera's side of the conversation: "Oh, she's in the living room."

I closed my eyes. "Camilla?" Isaac asked. He seemed to knock on the wall. I sat up and stared at him again.

"'Sup, teacher?" He sat next to me on the couch and handed me the booklet, keeping the photo album.

"You're mature enough to handle a clan of your own, and your training's complete. Thus, you're ready to take on a vampire clan. The most recent update of this was four years ago. We're supposed to get a new one next year."

I flipped through the pages. The clans were in alphabetical order, and if a vampire had a gift, it said what it was next to their name. I smiled as I got to the V section. There were only two available options: The Volturi 'clan' and their 'guard'. I saw them as the same thing.

"And I get to pick the leech clan of my choice?" I asked carefully. Anastasia joined us, her eyes on me.

"Don't, Camilla," she warned. I glowered at her. So she _did_ know. Damn. This was going to ruin all of my plans if she told Isaac.

"What?" I retorted. "You were the one that told me _I_ was the one who was supposed to destroy them."

She shook her head. "I used them as an example. I was actually expecting you to, I don't know, pick off some minuscule coven in France or something. Not _them_."

Isaac was appropriately confused. "What?" he asked. "Which clan does she want to hunt?"

Anastasia and I scowled at each other. "She wants to hunt the Volturi," she replied to his question. Isaac stiffened and turned to me.

"Why?"

"It's the closest clan to this place. I can have the aid of witches at any time. I have a score to settle with them. They need to be knocked off their high horse. Is that enough?" I asked, ticking off the reasons with my fingers.

Isaac slumped against the couch. "You realize that this is suicide, right? I don't want you to die, Camilla."

"I don't want to die either, teacher," I replied cheerfully. "But I'm not going to, so the worry that I will is unneeded. So _there_."

Anastasia glowered. "Fine," she said, raising her voice. "If you want to die, so be it. It'll be quiet around the house again."

Isaac pressed his lips together. "Are you sure you want to do this, Camilla?" he asked.

"Do what?" Kiera had overheard Anastasia's tantrum and had joined us, wiping her hands with a dishcloth. I looked him in the eye.

"Isaac, I want to hunt the Volturi. They're my clan choice."

He shook his head, not saying anything.

"The Volturi?" Kiera asked, tossing the dishtowel over her shoulder. "You want to hunt the _Volturi_?" I nodded, expecting a lecture of how stupid I was. Instead, her expression remained neutral. "Then I have something to give you. I visit Aro sometimes—he and I have known each other for quite some time, since the 1700s—and I have a powder to keep him from reading your thoughts. Wait here, I'll be back."

She returned five minutes later with a large plastic bag. As she moved, the chinking of glass could be heard. She handed it to me and I saw several large glass bottles filled with a fine white powder inside.

"Put this on your arms. He doesn't touch your face unless you're a personal friend of his. Using a full bottle lasts for three days and is waterproof. It also blends into your skin if you rub it in correctly," she explained. "If you run low on these, tell the visiting witch and I'll make some more. Good luck. You'll need it."

"_Grazie._" There was something somber about the exchange that made me stay serious. Then I stiffened as another idea occurred to me. I couldn't believe I hadn't thought of it until this moment. How pathetic. "Teacher . . . vampires will be able to hear my heartbeat. How can I hunt vampires successfully if they know that I'm coming?"

"I've got you covered," said Anastasia. "I've been testing out on that issue for a long time. It works . . . but it's killed all of my rats. When it's perfected I'll bring you a batch and tell you how to use it."

I smiled at her, feeling at ease again. Although, she'd probably put frogs in my bed for my choice to hunt the Volturi. Like that time when she caught me trying to sneak into her room when I was fourteen. Ew.

"Thank you."

"When do you want to move to Volterra?" Isaac asked softly. I tightened my grip on the plastic bag filled with the vials of powder.

"As soon as possible."

* * *

><p><strong>T<strong>he wind whistled past my ears and I held onto my Hard Rock Café fedora, not wanting it to be swept away in the gust. The car was behind us, in the cave that had saved my life so many years ago, and we were overlooking a sienna city on a hill. The Fiorentina Gate loomed in front of us. Inside, the vampires I was going to hunt awaited justice.

Right then, the August heat didn't seem so unbearable. I was so close to my goal it hurt.

"Volterra," I breathed. "At last."

* * *

><p><em>Completed for <em>_**Project PULL**__._

* * *

><p><em>Italian words definition:<em>

_Limoncello - A popular alcoholic drink in Italy. It is the national drink of Italy. The most popular alcoholic drink in Italy is campari._

_Grazie – thank you_

_Cavalucci – a type of Italian cookies. Google them._

* * *

><p><em>Lots of thanks to:<em>

_FallingStar17 :: Queen Alexandera's Birdwing :: RedFluffyBanana :: Code Purple :: Miss Li-ding :: Kay Celestine :: Twilight Woods :: Jessamine Theriot :: Lord Jace :: PrincessPiperMarie_


	3. · The Second Chapter ·

_**Title:**__ Bloody Morning: The Second Chapter_

_**Characters/Pairing**__: Alec, OCs, and the Volturi._

_**Warning/Spoilers**__: There shall be swearing. Post BD._

_**A/N**__: I kept researching what things were like in Italy, but I just got BS stuff. I found myself Googling whether or not __**Italians had grocery stores**__ and then I facepalmed at my idiocy. How American of Theia, right? Now, I'm just going to assume that everything in Italy is like the US and happens to be in Volterra, except when I found something that says otherwise. If you happen to live in Volterra/Italy or have visited there, please don't hesitate to correct me. XD Beta'd by __**Kaleidoscope Flowers**__. Second chapter, in which we meet Alec and the Volturi, just like I promised. :) Reviews are loved, but not necessary to my survival._

_**Dedication**__: To Rashella because she demanded a chapter in her honor for helping me out on FM. :P ILU niece~_

* * *

><p><strong>· The Second Chapter ·<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>A<strong>nastasia lightly touched my arm. "Are you sure you want to do this?" she asked in concern. I'd been asked that question so many times that I was starting to get sick of it. I quickly composed my expression to one of neutrality—before, it had probably been something like apprehension. Before I could answer, she added, "It isn't too late, you know. We could go back to the house. You can pick a different coven to hunt. Isaac wouldn't mind."

I was _not_ backing down now.

I shook my head. "No. I _want_ to do this. The Volturi must fall."

"Once you walk through that gate, there's no turning back," Kiera warned. I glared at her.

"I _know_. God. It's like you don't want me to help out the human race." I sniffed. "Now, let's go . . . before I change my mind."

Kiera smiled, shaking the keys to the car. Anastasia made no comment in return and led the way down the winding hill. The hill led to a road that connected Volterra and some other faraway city. I quickly followed suit, Kiera trailing after me.

She waited for us at the gate of the city. Ugly, mutilated gargoyles, weathered by erosion, glared down at us. I shivered at their blank eyes and snarling leers. For such a warm day, I was unnaturally cold.

Side by side, we entered the capital of vampires.

It was a normal day. The sun was out, the streets weren't jam-packed and we were able to continue walking without pushing someone in the process. Gift shops, pizzerias and buildings I'd never seen before provided shade in the streets. My old memories of the city were starting to resurface, though they were faded and uncertain.

I was entranced by the sights. The witches beside me were also looking at the wonders of the ancient city. I knew that it shouldn't have been so fascinating, but I'd never been here for more than an hour before. This was a city that was built before Jesus Christ was born, and it dazzled me.

I was so engrossed in the sights that I didn't look at where I was going and I ran into a sienna wall.

I staggered backwards, clutching my nose. Warm and cold hands steadied me at the same time. I looked up, blinking away the instinctive tears, into the most beautiful face I'd ever seen. His hair was a vivid brown and his gray hood—the shade was so dark it was almost black—shadowed his face. I couldn't tell what his eye color was. He was also incredibly pale, and just a few inches taller than me. Unfortunately, I'd inherited my mother's height genes and wasn't growing any taller than my 5'5". I was mesmerized until one of the witches pinched my side, making me blink. The boy was saying something.

". . . all right?" he finished, looking annoyed and like he was in pain. I was still holding my nose.

"Oh, I'm fine," I assured him, smiling behind my hand. "Who are you?"

Anastasia shifted to stand closer to me. A warning. His eyes darted to her chest, where her Siren Pentacle was, then back to me again. He relaxed and gave me a tiny smile, even doing a small bow. "I am Alec. Pleased to make your acquaintance."

I stiffened at the name immediately, dropping my hand to my side. I wasn't smiling anymore. He turned to Kiera, and his voice became considerably colder. "Why, Kiera! What a surprise. I wasn't expecting you back so soon. Aro will be _delighted_ to see you again. I presume you'll see him as soon as your schedule permits?"

Kiera tilted her head, unconcerned by the subtle threat. I knew that she had met Aro in the 1700s, and that she disliked the Volturi, but it still made me grit my teeth. "Yes. I'm afraid I'll have to put my visit on hold, though. I'm here to help this one move into Volterra."

She tilted her head in my direction. I forced a tight smile. Alec nodded, his eyes narrowed, his expression twisted into one of dislike. Did he have something against the witches or something? "A wise choice," he finally murmured. "Volterra _is_ the safest place on the planet."

I snorted before I could stop myself, and slapped a hand over my mouth once I'd realized what I'd done. Anastasia grabbed my arm. Alec's face was a mix of confusion, suspicion and amusement. Oh, crap.

"It's been a _delight_ talking to you, Alec. It really has. However, I'm afraid we must take our leave. Good_bye_," she said curtly, pulling me away. He didn't respond, his eyes still narrowed as he watched us go.

I tried not to laugh, I really did. Now, instead of outright laughing, I was doing a mix between hiccupping and coughing. Well, it was better than the scoffing chuckle I'd just done. _If I'm not dead by the end of this week_, I thought, _then either Lady Luck really likes me or vampires aren't as smart as I thought_.

"Are you _trying_ to get yourself killed?" Anastasia hissed. I clamped my mouth shut, keeping up with the fast pace the two had set.

Apprehension started setting in. I didn't know what had come over me then, but the fact that we'd come across one of the witch twins within five minutes of entering Volterra scared me.

She led the way for a few minutes and then fell back and nodded to me. Her lips were in a pale, tight line—she seemed just as stressed as the other witch. Anastasia seemed to pick up the pace this time. The edges of her black cloak billowed in the wind. I was practically jogging to keep up with her. The familiar alleyway appeared, ringing a small bell in my mind.

"Take a right on the upcoming arch," I instructed. At least, that was where I _thought_ the house was. It was how I remembered my mother taking me to the vacation home. The witches then did something very odd. Anastasia _did_ turn right and walk forward—however, she grabbed my arm and backpedalled to the arch instead of continuing. Kiera did the same.

"Uh . . . what're you doing?" I asked, jerking my thumb in the direction we'd been going before. "The house is that way."

Anastasia ignored me. She studied the alleyway and then pulled three small vials filled with a clear liquid from her cloak, handing one to Kiera and one to me. Then, she pulled the cork off and poured it over her feet. Kiera and I exchanged a look and followed her example. This must've been holy water, because I remembered Isaac doing this exact same thing when he rescued me.

Holy water blessed by the Pope was incredibly hard to come by. It took money, connections and persuasion to attain it, but the effects it had on the monsters I'd devoted my life to destroying made up for it. It was the only type of holy water to have any result on vampires. It didn't kill them, but it burned them badly. It also threw off the scent of anyone who wanted to keep the trackers away.

"Now we're ready to go," she declared. Kiera moved towards a small space between the arch and the first building. It was so narrow I hadn't seen it. She looked down and then she was gone.

I gasped. Anastasia pushed me toward the passage, and as I grew closer to the place where Kiera had disappeared, I saw a drain with no grate. The memory of being stuck in the ventilator flashed before my eyes and I felt my breathing quicken.

"Kiera?" I mumbled, feeling stupid.

"I'm right here, Camilla. Come down," the witch replied from the darkness below. Her voice echoed. I wrinkled my nose again.

"Is there a ladder or something I can use?"

Anastasia sighed impatiently behind me. I glared at her over my shoulder for a brief second, then stared back down the intimidating hole. "There is, but if you jump it's a short drop. I'll catch you," Kiera promised. I swallowed hard and looked away from the inky black abyss. Heights _sucked_.

Then I closed my eyes and stepped forward, into the hole. The wind whistled past my ears for a split second. I felt my hat be lifted away with it. Kiera broke my fall and grabbed my arms before I could fall on my butt. Water splashed over my shoes, drenching my feet. I opened my eyes again and blinked, adjusting to the light—or lack of it. Light from the drain was blocked for a short moment as Anastasia joined us.

When she was standing, she pulled her hood up and handed my hat to me. Kiera pulled her hood up, too. At my questioning look, she pointed at the ceiling. "It drips. You landed in a puddle. Come on," she said. I shivered and put my hat on, following the witch and trying not to fall into the still waters of sewage on my right. I kept one hand on wet stone, trying not to gag at the sewage's stench. The occasional _drip-drop_ of water was the only sound I heard. We were walking in perfect darkness.

"The Etruscans were geniuses at city defense," Kiera whispered, breaking the silence. "They built these tunnels all over the city as sanctuaries from invaders. This is one of the originals. James Willard rediscovered them and the city's been using the tunnels ever since."

I stopped dead at that horribly familiar name. Anastasia ran into me. "James . . . _Willard_?" I whispered. I couldn't tell if Kiera had stopped or not. A drop of water hit my nose.

"Yes," Anastasia said slowly, coming to stand next to me. "He lived here. He was a legend at collecting information about the covens. No one knows where his lost journals are, but that black book Isaac gave to you was written by him. By the time they realized that he'd been collecting information on them, it was too late.

"He'd already self-published the books and given them to their enemies: witches and werewolves. At the time, the witches were in a war against the vampires. The Volturi, especially, were furious, as he'd been living _their_ city. He was 'accidentally' killed by a dysfunctional break in his car."

I bit my lip and tried to keep my breathing steady. James Willard was my father. My mother had spoken about him a lot before she was murdered, and I tried to conjure a picture of him in my mind. I knew I'd inherited his eyes, but I didn't even remember what he looked like.

"Camilla," called Kiera, "come on."

Anastasia pushed me and I went back to my original place in the single-file line. After a few minutes of silence again, Kiera stopped. My thoughts were disrupted when I ran into her, and Anastasia into me. I swore.

Kiera ignored me, pulling a piece of wood from a niche in the wall. There was a flicker of light, and then we were all bathed in the orange glow of fire. At first, I thought that she'd summoned the flame, but then I saw the silver glint of a lighter and I felt stupid.

Kiera continued to lead us. The path in the sewers seemed to take forever, until she put the torch in a rusting iron bracket. I peeked over her shoulder to see a steep stone staircase, glistening with water. Beside it, the tunnel continued. "When James found this tunnel, he discovered a perfect opportunity to connect it with his house—yours now, Camilla," Anastasia remarked.

I managed a weak smile as I climbed the staircase. Kiera stopped in front of me, pushing against something thick. She turned a latch, twisted a bolt and threw the wooden trapdoor open.

The sunlight blinded me and I leaned forward, not wanting Anastasia to try and catch my dead weight. When the black dots disappeared, I followed after the witches.

Kiera closed the door after me, and I got my first look at the interior of my new home. The first thing I noticed about the house was that there was a rug covering the trapdoor, yet there hadn't been any fabric flopping in my face. I looked for a handle to lift the trapdoor with, but Anastasia stopped me by saying, "It's not designed like that, Camilla."

I straightened and looked around. The house badly needed repairing—termite holes were obvious in some places of the wood panel flooring, and the wallpaper was peeling off. I left Anastasia and Kiera in their own conversation to wander the house by myself.

I walked down the silent hallway until I reached another point of light. A wooden door stood in front of me, surrounded by glass windows. I peeked out of one of the glass windows to see my furniture and other fixtures I didn't recognize stacked up on the lawn.

So this must've been the front door. I took a couple of steps back and ran into a wall. I turned around and gasped in surprise, face-to-face with a small, framed picture.

I recognized my mother at once. She was much younger, though. There were no worry lines on her face, no errant streaks of gray in her light brown hair. Her pale brown eyes weren't weary and scared. This picture was obviously taken before the accid—_No_, I corrected myself. _The murder_.

My eyes drifted to the next figure, the little toddler in her arms. She was smiling at the camera, her short bob of hair curled. My throat went dry at the sight of her—at _me_. My father's eyes looked odd on me as a small child. I didn't even remember when this picture was taken. I looked for my father, but he wasn't there.

I touched my mother's face briefly and swallowed hard. Footsteps echoed in the hall, making me step back and look away. Anastasia appeared, her hood down and her hazel eyes taking in the house with eager interest. Then she looked at me and her expression sobered. "Is something wrong?"

Kiera appeared behind her at these words. I shook my head, subtly shifting my weight to cover the picture. I swallowed again and didn't speak. Tears threatened to brim over my eyelids and I closed my eyes.

Someone clapped. "Well. Are you ready to pick your room and settle in the house, Camilla?" Kiera asked.

I opened my eyes and stared in disdain at the rotting floorboards. "No way in hell, Kiera. Do you see this?" I gestured to the putrid interior of the house and sneezed at the dust my action produced. When I was done with my little fit, I continued. "If anything, this place needs to be fixed up first. If I tried to sleep upstairs it'd probably collapse on me."

Anastasia smirked at my response. After deliberating, Kiera nodded in agreement. "You're right, you're right. Anastasia, help me move the furniture up to the living room. Keep the door open, Camilla. We'll put the border up later." She opened the front door and went outside.

"The border?" I repeated, confused. Anastasia looked over her shoulder and winked at me. Then she went to join her coven mate outside.

That didn't make me feel any better.

As I watched, the witches held their hands over small pieces of furniture, like the end table I recognized, and mouthed something. I couldn't hear them, but I guessed that it was in the language that Anastasia had spoken when she saved me from Isaac.

Then the furniture, in response, actually _floated up underneath their hands_ and they would walk back through the front door. The witches would then put the furniture on the carpet in what I assumed to be the living room.

"That is so cool," I breathed as they came in with a hovering couch. They smiled in response and I looked out at the other buildings that surrounded the house. I wasn't alone on the street anymore, like I remembered. Something occurred to me and I frowned. "Wait. What if people see you?"

Anastasia and Kiera exchanged a look and laughed. "We put on a charm so that those who've never met us before wouldn't be able to see us or anything we interacted with. Plus, there's no one here besides us at the moment. Your concern is appreciated, but not needed," Kiera teased, poking my side.

I rolled my eyes. When the witches went outside again, I went to go hunt for the kitchen. I was starving.

I went back to the trap door, where two adjacent rooms joined the hallway in a fork. To my back was a door leading to a laundry room. I peeked into the adjacent room on my left and grinned when I saw a fridge and some countertops, along with a stove. Perfect. The witches must've stocked the fridge before we got here.

I went around the counters and opened the fridge door, stopping when an acrid smell overcame my senses. The light in the fridge door didn't turn on. I stood up, closed the fridge, and leaned against the counter. Anastasia came into the kitchen, playing with something in her hands. Kiera was right behind her.

I went around them to look into the other room. It was a dining room, with a large table for six. No other way to get out. I returned to the kitchen, unsure of what to do. Kiera noticed my loitering about and said, "Camilla, why don't you do something productive? There's money in the living room somewhere. Use it to buy paint or groceries or something. And turn that light on, will you?"

I pursed my lips. Being productive actually sounded like a good idea. I nodded and straightened, turning around and reaching for the light switch. Doing something helpful, I reasoned, was better than watching the witches do all the work of moving in. I didn't want to feel useless.

I flicked the light switch up, expecting the room to fill with brilliant pale yellow instantly. Instead, nothing happened. I flicked it a few more times before remembering that the light hadn't in the refrigerator hadn't come on, either. My mouth formed a small 'o' of surprise as I realized what had happened.

"I think the electricity's been shut off."

"Really?" Anastasia asked skeptically.

"Really. When you open the door of the fridge, the light doesn't come on. I think the electric company shut off the electricity until we pay the bill. That might apply for the water, too." I glanced at a closed door, wondering if that was a bathroom or not.

"Hm. Anastasia, remind me when we're home again to use Camilla's bank account to pay all the bills, will you?"

I paused—I'd been walking to the living room to fetch the purse. I backpedalled and stuck my head into the kitchen. "Since when do I have a bank account?"

Kiera stood up and grinned at me, wringing out the dishtowel into a new bucket that had appeared. The summoning thing was going to give me a headache soon. "Since you joined my coven, that's when."

I wrinkled my nose and thought about that. ". . . How much do I have?"

She laughed, not answering me. I tried not to feel snubbed by that. Finally, Kiera responded. "Don't worry about it, Camilla. Get the money and buy things! Food and paint would be preferred. Don't get crazy, okay?"

I laughed and turned back to the hallway. "You got it, Kiera." I wasn't going to go crazy with the money anyway. Psh—setting a teenage girl loose with an unspecified amount of money? Definitely not.

I straightened my fedora and went to scour the living room. Seats and tables were scattered everywhere, with smaller pieces of furniture and random potted plants stacked up on them. I touched an old-fashioned chair and brought my fingers up to my face. My finger pads were white with dust. I suddenly sneezed, the action bringing up a cloud of filth. Some of the furniture must've been taken from the attic in the mansion or something.

I spotted a black bag sitting on a drawer-shaped thing and grabbed it before I could sneeze myself to death. I walked back to the kitchen to confirm if the black thing was, in fact, the purse that Kiera was talking about. "This it?" I asked. Anastasia was sitting on the counter, inspecting a glowing blue-green stone. Kiera, who was staring over the other witch's shoulder, looked up and nodded.

"Yes," she replied. Anastasia frowned at the stone and handed it to Kiera, who in turn scrutinized it. I didn't want to know what exactly they were doing.

"Thanks." I left the house and spent a few minutes running around the front yard, establishing where my lawn ended and my neighbor's started. The sun was high and warmed me from the draft in the house. I smiled and began making my way down the cobblestone street, careful not to touch anything.

I strode past the apartments, houses and other buildings until I got to the Palazzo dei Priori. The clock tower made no noise and people continued bustling about. Vendors were selling small items on the streets, and I took the chance to look inside my purse. I was sure my face had an expression of disbelief when I took out five hundred and twenty-four Euros.

"Wow. Living for four hundred years really does rake in the dough," I muttered, jamming the money back into the purse. The wind whipped my hair around and I grabbed my fedora to keep it in place. The weather had decided to be bipolar today: first, the sky would become cloudy, then it would clear up every few seconds. It was annoying and irritating my eyes.

A sudden movement caught my attention. A young girl was standing on the balcony of a building in the square, close to the Duomo and shrouded in shadow. I was too far away to make out her features, so I went closer until I had a clear view of her. She wasn't as young as I'd originally thought: she looked about my age—but she was awfully short, shorter than _me_. I could make out pale brown hair framing her chin. Her face was covered in shadow underneath the gray cowl of her cloak.

I continued staring at her, awed at her angelic beauty. It was like she was posing for a portrait.

Then, everything changed in a second. She seemed to feel my gaze and looked down, meeting my eyes—hers were the color of burgundy velvet. Her facial features strongly resembled the other witch twin I'd met earlier today. I swallowed hard as her eyes narrowed at me, feeling the color drain from my face. Against all of my training, I was terrified.

_Never feel fear—your enemies can sense it_, I recalled Isaac saying once.

Whoops.

I looked at her one more time, tightened my grip on Kiera's purse, and bolted like a frightened animal. Right then, I was very, very grateful for the fact that I'd kept up my running habits during my six years at the mansion.

I ran down winding alleys that I didn't know the name of, not stopping until I had no idea where I was. After gazing around the alley, I leaned against the sienna walls to catch my breath, disgusted and fuming at my cowardice. I waited until I couldn't hear my heartbeat in my ears anymore. Then I stepped forward and tried to figure out where I was.

There was a sputtering sound, and a man rushed past me on a Vespa. I ran after him as soon as his passage registered in my mind. "_Mi scusi_!" I shouted. He slowed to a stop and looked around, like he'd heard something but didn't know where it came from. I managed to catch up with him. "Hey!" I said, just as loudly. He looked at his watch and scowled at me, taking off his helmet.

"What do you want, kid?"

I debated my answer. Then I decided to tell him the truth. If he tried anything, I could defend myself. "I'm lost," I replied, feeling helpless. His face softened at my response. "I moved here this morning and went out to get paint and food. Do you know where the grocery or hardware store is?"

After considering, he gave me directions to the hardware store and added that the grocery store was just around the block from there. I thanked him and he drove off on his blue Vespa.

Damn, I wanted one of those.

I turned around and gasped, taking a step back in surprise.

Alec lifted his head and smirked at me.

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><p><em>W<em>_ritten for __**Bookaholic711's Project PULL challenge**__. Check it out, yeah?_

_Stick with me. There'll be some fillers, but the ball is set to roll soon. Promise._

_Italian words/phrases:_

_Mi scusi - (formal) Excuse me_

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><p><em>Lots of thanks to:<em>

_Nameless reviewer :: C. B. Foster :: Fallingstar17 :: Queen Alexandera's Birdwing :: Code Purple :: Miss-Li-ding  
><em>


	4. · The Third Chapter ·

**Title:** Bloody Morning: The Third Chapter

**Characters/Pairing**: Alec, OCs, and the Volturi.

**Warning/Spoilers**: Swearing is a definite. Rule bending is probable. Realism is a hope. This chapter is most definitely a filler that you can skip if you want. Hold on tight and enjoy the ride~

**A/N**: Beta'd by **Kaleidoscope Flowers**. Reviews are loved, but not necessary to my survival. I don't think I have anything else to add. :/ Oh, wait, one more thing. Camilla is a bad role model, kids. Don't follow her example.

**Dedication**: To my Muses, for blessing me with an imagination. ;)

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><p><strong>· The Third Chapter ·<strong>

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><p><strong>I<strong> blinked a few times, gathering my wits. "You're . . . Alec, right?" I asked, as calmly as possible. I didn't want to look at his face.

He gave a polite little nod. "Yes. However, I don't think I had the pleasure of knowing what _your _name is."

I flinched. Of course he would want to know that. I wrinkled my nose, having an internal battle with myself: bolt, or tell him my name. Both were equally stupid. If I bolted, I would look even more suspicious to him, thanks to my laughing stunt when he said Volterra was safe. So I went with telling him my name.

"Camilla," I muttered, mentally swearing at myself. It was so low that I hoped he hadn't heard me, but of course he did—he _was_ a vampire, after all.

"Camilla," he repeated. "It suits you." I gazed at a spot over his shoulder, not saying anything. "You're blushing, you know."

Damn, really? My hand automatically went up to my cheek, as I couldn't tell when I was blushing or not. People said that it felt like a heat wave on your cheeks, but I didn't notice anything like that at all when I blushed.

I scowled at the truth in his words. He smiled, but it didn't reach his dark eyes—I couldn't figure out the shade at that moment, but I was willing to bet my entire new-found bank account that it was red. He looked . . . detached, almost, as if he was bored. His whole face was shaded by his hood. Then, in the silence, was when I noticed the smell.

It was very subtle, but it stung my nostrils nonetheless. It was a sickly sweet odor, like someone had sprayed a really nasty perfume in the air. It reminded me of the time Kiera was shooed out of the house until she washed off her homemade perfume.

It was also mixed with the smell of fresh rain. Merged together with the sweetness, it was unpleasant. I'd been living with Isaac's musky woodsman scent, Odette's aroma of freshly baked cookies, and the other witches' varied fruit smells for six years. The fragrance that lingered in the air was foul in comparison.

Alec seemed to notice the smell, too. He made a good show of hiding it, but I could see his nose was wrinkled in the shade. You wouldn't have noticed it unless you were standing at _just_ the right angle or knew what you were looking for.

"You smell it, too?" I asked. He seemed startled with my question. Then he switched back to his apathetic but courteous façade.

"Smell what?"

Oh, right. He could smell _everything _in the town. I waved a noncommittal hand, treading on careful ground. "That . . . perfume or something. It's too sweet and it's irritating my nose. But it smells like rain at the same time. It's really, really bad." My face scrunched up in repulsion, at both the stink and myself for initiating a conversation.

Why was I talking to him? I should've been buying things needed for my living here by now. I abruptly turned away and strode towards the place the man had said the hardware store was. Alec was at my side in an instant.

His eyes narrowed. "Really? All I smell is wet dog and cinnamon."

Well, cinnamon was the supposed scent of my shampoo, but the wet dog smell? I shook my head, deciding not to further this odd conversation.

We walked in silence. I tried to relax my body—I was as stiff as a board in his presence—but I couldn't, no matter how hard I tried. I just kept tensing up again. After a while of relaxing and tensing, I decided to give up and just ignore him. My reasons were justified in my eyes; this _was_ the guy (_leech_, I corrected) who could block off all of my senses, after all. I had a reason to be tense.

"So, Camilla. What brings you here to Volterra?"

"That's none of your business," I replied sweetly, looking over my shoulder to plaster a huge, fake smile on my face directly at him. He raised an eyebrow. I looked away after a couple of seconds.

"You're acquainted with Kiera de Luca?" he ventured. I narrowed my eyes and didn't answer him. He sighed. "I'm just trying to be friendly, Camilla. Welcome you to the city and all that."

I turned a corner and smiled. Across the street was the hardware store—_A Little Bit of Everything_, it was called. Once I fixed up my house, I could pack up in nonperishable food items.

Alec stayed beside me. Cold radiated from him to me, making me shiver. I risked a glance at him and saw that his hood was still up, even though it was cloudy. Well, I couldn't blame him. The weather had been bipolar all day. "You know, ignoring someone is very rude. Didn't your mother ever teach you manners?"

I saw red as soon as his words registered in my mind. My hands twitched towards my closest knives—the ones strapped to my thighs under my clothes—and I could feel my body trembling with fury.

That goddamn _parasite_ had the audacity to mention my mother? After what had _happened_ to her?

"Never got the chance. She was murdered right before my eyes," I snarled, looking over my shoulder to give him a fierce glare. He looked taken aback—that clearly wasn't the response he'd been expecting.

"My apologies," he said after a heartbeat, looking appropriately abashed. "I didn't know. Has the killer faced justice yet?"

_Oh, you did know, you goddamn bloodsucker. You were there._

I smiled at his question, but my tone was still icy. "No, not yet. But they will. In time."

In a minute, we were at A Little Bit of Everything. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Alec nod. I ignored him, walked through the doors of the store, and looked around, still seething. The jackass . . . bringing up my mother . . . I should've killed him when I had the chance at the Palazzo dei Priori. When Anastasia and Kiera were backing me up. I mentally called him every derogatory name I could think of while I examined the interior of the store.

The floor was a stormy gray, the walls paneled in dark wood, with soft lights illuminating everything. Music tinkled through hidden speakers and the air conditioner seemed to be on full blast. With a shiver, I realized that I was freezing. Teenagers gaped at me, and I guessed that Alec was still around. _Now_ how was I supposed to get rid of him? He seemed intent on finding out information on me—information he would never get.

"You can leave now," I called over my shoulder. My voice was still angry, but more controlled, which was a very good thing. If I lost my cool the first day on my assignment, Isaac would hole me up at the mansion for an indefinite amount of time for sure. He snorted in response and I went up to a store worker, who was rearranging the display of carpets. "Excuse me, where is the paint? I'm new to Volterra," I said, smiling at him.

He nodded and pointed to a far corner of the store. I thanked him and walked back to the place labeled "Paints," checking over my shoulder to see if Alec was still there. He wasn't, thank God. Color pallets and things labeled as 'idea cards' were lined up against a wall, and the rest of the aisles across the room were composed of the according paint cans. I was browsing a pretty shade of blue when Alec appeared at my side, a light wind announcing his arrival. I rolled my eyes, dropping an idea card back into its place.

"What do you want, Alec?" I asked, making the mistake of looking at him. His hood was down and his face was even more gorgeous lit up. He wasn't returning my gaze, though, so I couldn't see his eyes to remind me that he was a monster. Maybe that was on purpose.

I hated the effect he had on me. It was probably a vampire thing that Isaac hadn't trained me for. I pursed my lips and went back to browsing the paint, trying to imagine them in the various rooms of the house I'd been in. Maybe that green would work with the living room . . . or, possibly, the kitchen. . . .

"I can't learn anything about you?" he asked, breaking me out of my thoughts. I lifted up an idea card with a dark burgundy, trying to imagine it in the dining room. "I want to, uh . . ." he cleared his throat. So this was as awkward for him as it was for me. Hah! Score one for Camilla. "Get to know you. Establish a friendship, if you will."

I didn't actually say anything in response, but I felt my face distort into a horrified grimace when it should've been a cool mask of neutrality. Dammit, I needed to get my act _together_. "_You_? _My_ friend?" I asked. After a pause, I started chuckling to myself. "Me, friends with you," I muttered softly. "What a stupid idea."

"Is that thought so repulsive?" he asked.

I pretended to think about my answer. "Yeah, it kind of is."

I could tell he was smirking when he spoke again. "A girl not enjoying my friendship. I must admit that this is the first time that's ever happened."

Oh, so he was a _cocky_ bloodsucker, too. Great. This was fantastic. I pressed my lips together. _Stupid leech_. "Well, you know what they say. There's a first time for everything."

I moved on to a square colored with a lovely shade of green that would've been nice with light-colored wood, or maybe white tile. "Hm," Alec replied noncommittally. He now sounded bored—more like the apathetic Volturi parasite I'd been expecting—and like he wanted to be anywhere but here. Score two for Camilla.

I nodded to myself and glanced at the color pallets again, finding the bucket that its number matched in seconds. Yes, this shade would be good. And I could redesign my room to look like the one I'd had at the mansion. I grabbed two buckets of the green paint and a couple of paint rollers, plus two trays for the paint. The buckets weren't heavy, but holding those, the rollers, _and_ the trays would wear me out on the trip home.

"Here, let me help," Alec said at once. I scowled, but he had the paint cans in his hands before I could give a sarcastic reply or realize what had happened. He just smiled at me in response. I glared at him, turning on my heel and heading for the cash register.

When I'd paid, he followed me out of the store. Now that Alec served a purpose for me, I couldn't find an excuse to get him to leave me alone. I kept sighing in an annoyed, unhappy teenager-ish way and continued to hope that it got on his nerves so much that he'd go away.

I stomped across the road and turned a corner of the never-ending alleys. He didn't try to initiate any more conversation, which I was immensely grateful for. There, in the small square, I saw my savior.

Three children were playing, and a toddler was watching from inside a red wagon. I'd never seen anything like the wagon before in my life, but it worked for what I had in mind. There weren't any adults around that seemed to care about them, and none of the children were paying attention to me.

Instead of going to the grocery store, I crept up to the toddler and grabbed him, lifting him up and over the side of the wagon. The only noise he made was a coo when I put him on the ground. Then I snatched the handle of the wagon, put the rollers in, and made a mad dash for my paint cans and the bloodsucker that was holding them.

I winced at the noise the wagon made and looked over my shoulder when I reached him, expecting the kids to be chasing after me right away. They hadn't even noticed me stealing their wagon. I sighed in relief and turned back to point at Alec. "You. Paint cans. Put 'em in and leave."

He looked at me in disbelief. When he saw I was serious, he sighed and outstretched his hands to put them in the wagon. At that instant, the clouds parted and the sun came out. The bright rays caught his hand, and everything went in slow motion for a few seconds then.

The sparkling wasn't what I had expected. It wasn't like the big, obnoxious shining of a Vespa's steel bottom reflecting in the sunlight—it was like glowing, with individual pinpricks of diamonds in the middle of it. I blinked in surprise, and suddenly the paint cans were in the wagon, Alec was gone, and I was alone.

"Stupid, sparkly bloodsucker," I muttered so softly I was practically mouthing the words. Then it occurred to me that if he was anywhere nearby, he would've been able to hear me and I would die before I served my purpose. I kept screwing up today. My Teacher would be ashamed of me.

Suddenly, there was a commotion. I looked over my shoulder and swallowed. Whoops. It looked like the kids had discovered my theft.

Shit.

I turned back around and broke out into a sprint toward the block the grocery store was supposed to be on. As I passed a corner, I decided to backpedal and hide there. Holding my breath, I watched a boy run past me, still yelling, and stop at a fork in the street.

A girl ran up behind him and they had a quick conversation in a language I didn't understand—English, maybe? Then they split up. When I was sure they wouldn't come back, I stepped out of the shadows with a relieved sigh. Gripping the metal handle of the wagon, I crossed the street as far away from the fork as possible, to the grocery store.

I stocked up on rolls, olive oil, tomatoes and canned food, along with a batch of dough and a bag of potatoes. Then I got milk, some cream, dried _prosciutto,_ and a box of gelato popsicles. Yum. Once I convinced Odette to try and teach me how to cook again—the last time had resulted in a fire that Sera had to extinguish—I'd be able to bake pizza, lasagna and other foods. Briefly I considered if I should buy some limoncello for the witches, because they loved the stuff, and decided to buy one bottle. The clerks wouldn't care either way, and I was older than sixteen.

Several people gave me weird looks. It was probably because I was using a pull wagon instead of a cart to move my purchases around. I just smiled and waved until I was able to go to checkout.

I paid and left, retracing my steps until I got to where I originally became lost. The wagon unexpectedly groaned and sounded like it badly needed some oiling for the rest of my walk. Inside the grocery store, it had been silent on the linoleum tile. I made a mental note to fix that sometime, and attempted to navigate my way through the streets.

By some miracle, I recognized the alleys again and I soon found my way to the main square of Volterra. I kept my eyes open in the case of any angry adolescents . . . or a certain vampire that wouldn't leave me alone.

I soon used my knowledge of the main square to enter the alley that led to my house. I smiled at the people who stared and promised myself to find out which alley was which.

I didn't get a feeling that I was being followed until I reached the mouth of my alley. It was the wind that gave them away—it blew at my back in a light breeze, bringing with it the sweet scent that had lingered on Alec.

I went very still, holding my hat to my head. The wind died down, and I strained my ears for any movement behind me. The problem was that vampires didn't have to breathe, and they could stay as still as they wanted. I was practically blind and wouldn't know if a vampire was there unless I turned around. Seeing no other choice, I relaxed and made a move to continue on my way.

In less than a second, I dropped the wagon handle and turned around with no warning. Isaac had taught me how to surprise your enemy by turning with no hints that you were going to do so. It seemed pretty stupid, what with vampires having super-fast reflexes, but I took my chances anyway.

I saw a flash of dark gray—the shade I'd seen Jane and Alec wear—and then I was alone. So I _was_ being followed. Hot damn, the Volturi were on me already. I was screwed, and it was only my first day here.

Just to check, I scoured the alley to make sure the vampire hadn't been waiting for me to continue walking. I even scanned the rooftops. Nothing. I looked back at the wagon, perplexed and wishing I had a gallon of holy water to pour over it. If it wasn't the food that led them to my house, it would be the paint.

I pursed my lips and checked the street again. The vampire was definitely gone. I turned around and grabbed the handle of the wagon, walking down the cobblestone pathway until it seemed like it'd I'd arrived at my house—at least, what I _thought_ was my house. All of the buildings looked the same.

When I turned to what was supposed to be my house, I was greeted with an empty grass field. My brow furrowed and I titled my head, trying to remember if I had seen the empty lot on my way to the stores. I couldn't. This wasn't anywhere in my memory. I needed to pay more attention.

I sighed and turned to keep going—shrieking in surprise when I saw Anastasia standing beside me. Where the hell had she come from? I'd been alone a split second ago. She smile-grimaced at my reaction.

"What?" she asked slyly. I stared at her, and then at the vacant lot, and suddenly I understood.

"Is this the border you guys were talking about earlier?" I whispered.

"Mhm." She held up a necklace. "Isaac told me that you were Catholic—apparently, he heard you praying the Our Father one day after you started your training. So . . . I got you this."

She pressed the crucifix into my outstretched palm. I held it up so I could inspect it. It was made of sterling silver, and had a turquoise bead embedded in the middle of the intersection. I looked up from the necklace and smiled. "Thank you."

She bit her lip, and for the first time since I'd met her, she looked nervous. "You . . . like it?"

I laughed softly and nodded. "Yeah, I like it. Put it on for me?"

I gave her the necklace, turning around to face the empty lot, and held up my hair. Cool fingers brushed my spine, a chilly metal pressed against my chest, and then it was done. I focused on the sight in front of me and blinked. Parts of the house were gradually appearing in front of me, until the whole thing was visible. It was almost like it had just shown up out of nowhere. I looked at the cross necklace and lifted it up, squinting at the bead. Now that I thought about it, the blue stone looked suspiciously like the thing I'd seen Anastasia toss to Kiera.

I glanced up and raised an eyebrow. Anastasia was already leading the way, as if nothing unusual had happened. A bright sky-blue bead, similar to mine, stood out in the dark brown of her hair. I shook my head and followed her, pulling the wagon behind me. When I reached the stairs, I stopped. I couldn't pull the wagon over the stairs. I'd have to unpack it.

"Uh, Anastasia? Kiera? Anyone?" I called at the open doorway. After a few minutes, Kiera appeared. She now wore a silver bracelet with the same bead that Anastasia and I had in the middle of it.

She looked incredulous. "You managed not to get lost in this city? I must say, Camilla dear . . . I am impressed." Her face broke out into a grin, and I made a face.

"Shut up and help me unpack," I ordered, picking up a paint can and the bag of potatoes. Kiera snickered and called for Anastasia over her shoulder. Then she passed me and I entered the house, trying to not drop my cargo. I waddled into the kitchen and lifted up the paint container and potatoes with trembling arms. When it landed on the counter, I sagged in relief and flexed my arms. _Note to self,_ I thought, _only carry one thing at a time and lift more weights._

A pang of jealousy hit me when Kiera sauntered in, the other paint can and some groceries hovering behind her. I pouted. "What's that language you witches use when you're casting charms, or spells, or whatever?" I asked, immediately feeling bad at the harsh tone in my voice.

Kiera smiled, not ruffled by my attitude at all. "Latvian. Present-day Latvia is where the first witches were found, did you know? The Greeks introduced the Siren Pentacle, which is the necklace we wear, and the concept of Mothers."

Well, okay then.

I didn't reply, so Kiera went back out to get the rest of the items in the wagon. Anastasia soon came into the kitchen, putting the paint rollers on the counter. She didn't say anything to me, but instead went around the counter. I heard the rustling of a drawer being opened, and looked over to see what she was doing. She held up a wickedly sharp knife, two inches from my face, and did her strange grimace that was supposed to be her version of a smile.

My eyes widened. "Where did you get that? Did you summon it?"

She shook her head, the grimace-smile fading. "No. Keep in mind, Camilla, that someone did live here before you. And that they were intent on using the house again." She was still holding the knife, and I didn't know what she was planning on using it for. Instead of throwing it at my head for choosing to hunt the Volturi, she used the knife to pry open the paint can. I was handed the top as she glanced inside. "Pretty color. Where are you going to use it?"

I glimpsed around at the rotting house and pursed my lips. "I was thinking of using it for the dining room, but now it looks like it'd be cool for the main hallway." I looked back at her to see if she approved, and then scolded myself. What? This was _my_ house, not hers.

She nodded. Kiera entered the room, set the groceries on the counter, and went to see what color was inside the paint can. "Main hall, you said?" she asked, grabbing a paint roller and taking the price tag off of it. She did the same to the two other rollers, and I nodded, feeling woozy. Already the smell of paint was getting to my head.

"Alright, ladies," continued Kiera, giving the last two paint rollers to me and Anastasia. "Put on any protective clothing you may have—or don't mind destroying—now. For today, we paint!"

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><p><strong>A<strong>ll of the doors and windows were open to air out the house. Half of my clothes were covered in paint because of a war breaking out between the witches and me. Not the brightest idea on my part, because I smelled like nasty acrylic, and I would continue to do so for quite some time.

Most of the hallway was now a bright, vivid green instead of a rotting white. Later in the day, I was supposed to go with Kiera to pick out a wooden lining for the main hall, wallpaper and carpet, wood, tile, and other flooring. Anastasia would paint the hallway upstairs while we were gone.

Alec didn't cross my mind at all. We chatted about anything we wanted and I felt safe. Nevermind the fact that I would be surrounded by vampires whenever I left the house.

I moved on to the front of the building, which, to my surprise, hadn't been painted yet. I was in the middle of splashing green on the wall and tearing out rotting wallpaper when an idea struck me.

I turned around to face the wall where my family's picture hung, planning on putting it in my room when I picked one out. At first, I wasn't sure if I was looking at the right wall. But then I realized that they were the same, and I drew closer to examine them. There wasn't even a hole to show that the nail that held up the picture had been there.

My family's picture was gone, as if it had never existed.

Well, _damnit_.

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><p><em>Written for <em>_**Project PULL**__. STICK WITH ME HERE, there will be filler chapters and I know it's annoying, but at least I updated, right? :D Also, don't forget to check out **Twilight Woods**' Fictional Reality! :)_

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><p><em>Italian items in this chapter:<em>

_Prosciutto – Spicy Italian ham. :D_

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><p><em>Mucho gracias to:<em>

_Draco :: Jessamine Theriot :: Code Purple :: Twilight Woods :: BeneathTheDragon'sWings :: Lieutenant of Artemis :: Queen Alexandera's Birdwing_


	5. · The Fourth Chapter ·

"**C**amilla? Are you okay?" Kiera asked. I blinked and straightened, looking at the floor. My roller had dripped paint onto the rotting tile, staining it green. Oh, well. It looked like shit anyway.

"Yeah, fine. Why?"

"You've been squinting at the wall for close to three minutes, as if you were searching for something. Anything up?"

I shook my head, looking at her for the first time. She patted my back, and I noticed Anastasia painting my unfinished wall. She looked at me once and glanced away without saying anything. My eyes narrowed, and I had to draw my gaze away from her when Kiera cleared her throat to regain my attention.

"Do you want to pick a room now, Camilla? There're three."

I blinked. That many? In Potenza, I dimly remembered that my mother and I had to share a room after my father's life insurance ran out. Finally, I nodded. I might as well get it over with anyway. After another glance at the silent Anastasia, I ran up the stairs and reached the main hallway.

The floorboards groaned under my weight, and the light was poor, but I continued moving. I pushed open the first door I reached and let it air out before I entered. The lights didn't work, but I could still see the silhouette of my reflection in an object—a mirror. To my right was a toilet and what seemed to be a shower. At last, I'd found a bathroom.

I tried to remember its location as I backed out of the room. The next two were empty rooms, which I figured were supposed to be storage or the guest rooms. I couldn't tell.

At the end of the hall was a linen closet and the biggest bedroom in the house. It was furnished with a moth hole-ridden mattress, and a termite-affected dark wooden dresser and desk. Dust particles floated in the air, and the windows were shuttered.

A lump formed in my throat. Even though I barely remembered him, my father had lived here. I moved to the desk and opened the drawers, looking for anything that might tell me something about what he did here. There was nothing except for a few pens and pencils.

After thinking about it for a little bit, I laughed at myself. Of course he had so little here. He had another home—the crappy one in Potenza. I shut the last drawer on the desk and went to the first door on my left. That was a walk-in closet, something I hadn't had even when I lived in the witches' mansion, and the other was another bathroom. Obviously, this was the master bedroom—my father's.

This, too, would be my bedroom. Someone knocked on the open door. A quick glance behind me told me that it was Kiera, who looked around the room. "Very nice. This is the master bedroom, yes?"

I nodded, watching her carefully. Her eyes wandered again and then came to rest on the desk. Her smile faded into a thin, pale line. "Do you want me to get rid of the furniture for you?" she hedged. "I mean, if I had things reminding me that a person who's now dead lived here, I'd be edgy."

I crossed the room and touched the dark wooden bedframe. Dust had gathered in thick layers, and there was a little termite damage. The mirror on the dresser also had a thin film of dust, as well as smudges—but it wasn't in bad condition. Nothing that two Enchantress witches couldn't handle.

"No," I whispered, my thoughts on my father and his life in this house. I glanced up and grinned at Kiera, then looked back at the bed. "I want you to restore it." My eyes flickered back to her to see what her reaction would be.

She looked horrified for all of five seconds. Then her face was a blank mask again. "_Why_?"

"Why _not_?"

She faltered, then gave up. "Fine." Score three for Camilla. I was on a roll. "But what about your other furniture? Don't tell me Anastasia and I wasted all that time bringing them inside."

I half-smiled. "No, we can use those as the guest room furniture."

Kiera eyed the desk again, making me wonder what her problem was. "Alright, but Anastasia and I will need some time alone in here to do it. No human ears or eyes may be around when we cast charms or spells."

Okay, that was bullshit. I'd been there when Anastasia defended me from Isaac in his werewolf-form, when she turned him invisible for my training, and_she_ hadn't seemed to care whether I was there or not. Kiera wanted me out of the room for some reason . . . but why? Nevertheless, I nodded, promising myself that I would find out her reasons later. "Of course."

She sighed through her nose. "Right, well. We'll do that later. Are you ready to go shop for more necessary things to fix the house up?"

I paused to think about it. I had a large chance that I'd run into Alec—or worse, Jane—but I also had Kiera on my side. Plus, I really needed to fix up the house as soon as possible. Nightfall came closer with every passing minute.

"Sure, let's get it done," I said.

The witch disappeared at once. I could hear her footsteps on the creaky wooden boards as she walked down the hall. Yes, the house badly needed repair.

I made a move to follow her and stopped. Turning around, I went to the desk and touched it. Right now, this room was the only proof that he'd existed. "I miss you, Mom and Dad," I whispered, blinking to stop the sudden tears that had glazed my eyes over. "So much."

When I reached the main floor, Kiera and Anastasia were having a hushed conversation in Latvian. Anastasia shook her head and threw her hands in the air, spitting something at her coven mate. Neither one seemed to notice my being there. Kiera sighed and gave an agitated reply, making the other witch roll her eyes.

Then the argument became so quiet that I leaned forward, trying to hear the conversation better, even though I had no idea what they were saying. The stairs groaned under my weight, betraying me. We all froze, and then Kiera turned around.

Crap. I'd been caught.

I still was in my eavesdropping position, and quickly scrambled to appear like I'd just shown up.

She half-smiled at me, but it didn't reach her eyes. I knew eavesdropping was way high up on her blacklist, right next to boiling kittens alive, and I was probably going to have worms in my bed for doing it.

"Are you ready, Camilla?" she asked. I nodded, looking straight ahead, and jumped the last two remaining steps to place my hand on the doorknob.

She spoke to me again when we were outside. "Camilla, eavesdropping is a bad habit to continue. You know that."

"C'mon, Kiera, I don't even understand Latvian!"

"Still. It's an awful thing to do. You must tame that wild curiosity of yours, dear. It will get you in trouble someday," she warned.

"I can do whatever I want. You're not my mother!" I snapped. "Even though she's dead, it doesn't mean you can try to fill her shoes."

Hurt and . . . something else I didn't recognize flashed across her face. Immediately, I felt bad, but I didn't want to apologize. I had no idea what they were talking about, and she was acting like it was the worst thing in the world. Hmph. When we turned a corner, I could hear the Palazzo dei Priori chime the hour. Soon, I broke the stony silence by whispering, "What were you two talking about, anyway?"

Kiera glanced around and flexed her fingers. A mouthwatering aroma of pizza entered the air as we passed Blum's Pizzeria and several other shops. I'd visit those later—using Kiera's money. Then she replied, "The picture that Anastasia found. The toddler has your eyes. You could've told us that you were _James Willard's_ daughter, Camilla. Do you know how much more danger you're in now?"

"More? What do you mean, more?" I asked, keeping my face blank. So Anastasia _had_ been the one who'd taken the photo—that explained her silence, at least.

"James Willard is as much of a taboo to the Volturi as the immortal children are to the vampire race. They will kill you as soon as they find out that you're his daughter."

It soon occurred to me that I should've denied the whole thing as soon as I realized what she was talking about. Unfortunately, I'd already confirmed it. Damn. In silence, we entered the main square of Volterra, and I led her to the alley that I went to when I'd run away from Jane.

We went all the way to A Little Bit of Everything in silence. The same sales clerk from when I was with Alec was there. I was halfway to the paint section when Kiera called behind me, "Hey, Camilla, do you want a cart?"

I stopped and walked backwards until she was at my side. Then I went and grabbed one of the carts that she pointed to, which made me frown. These would've been useful in getting Alec out of my hair during my last visit.

"So why do the parasites hate my father so much? Is it just because he was the only one to gather information on them all?" After further thought on the matter, I smirked, proud of him.

"Partly. The number one rule of the vampires is to never expose their kind to humans. Anastasia explained this in the sewers. The biggest thing that the Volturi have is their pride, and they were the laughingstock of the world once James' vampire manual was published. He'd broken several laws _and_embarrassed them. Thus, they destroyed him and will destroy anyone who knows what he did here."

I narrowed my eyes and put four different cans of paint—purple, gold, blue and red—in the shopping cart. So now I had three targets: Jane, because she scared the hell out of me and had the potential to shut down my mission completely; Heidi, because she was responsible for my mother's death; and now Aro, because he was the one most likely to have ordered my father's murder.

"I'm going to go discuss putting in new flooring," Kiera said in a low voice. "Pick out what you want for that. I'll meet you in that department."

I nodded, and moved the cart from the paints section to the one labeled "Floors."

This was going to be a long day.

* * *

><p><strong>I<strong> was in the middle of painting the bathroom upstairs when a memory flashed through my mind. Me, putting Kiera's purse on a table behind a line of bushes before turning to talk to the witch, then leaving without it.

Oh, crap.

I put the roller in the tray and ran downstairs, where the witches were almost done painting the living room. "I need to go to the square," I rushed breathlessly.

Kiera raised an eyebrow, but didn't answer. Anastasia made a face at her coven mate and asked, "Why?"

"I think I might've left Kiera's purse in the square, and I'm gonna go get it." I made a move to leave, and then stopped, sniffing the air again. It had a mix of acrylic and smoke. "Did you burn something in here?"

"No," Kiera said slowly. "Are you sure the paint hasn't been getting to your head?"

I rolled my eyes and turned around, going outside into the fresh air. Once I reached the street, I broke out into a sprint, not stopping until I reached the main square. I held a hand to my pounding heart, scanning the tables for Kiera's purse. Only one was occupied, and I soon figured out that it wasn't there.

Christ, if someone had discovered how much money was in there. . . .

Someone tapped me on the shoulder, breaking me out of my thoughts.

"Were you looking for something?" a bubbly voice asked. I turned around to see a smiling redhead holding Kiera's purse. I snatched it from her grasp and quickly counted the money inside—all of it was there. Thank the Lord. She laughed. I looked up to thank her, but she cut me off before I could. "I saw you and your mom leave without taking this, so I decided to hold it until I saw you again. I'm Karissa Marino, and you have to meet my friends."

I raised an eyebrow, taking the chance to see who this Karissa Marino was. She had bobby pins in her curly orange-ish hair that went past her shoulders, with brown eyes outlined in mascara and eyeliner. Pretty, even if the makeup seemed to border on too much. "Kiera isn't my mom. And since when?"

"Since I took your purse for safekeeping. That's a lot of money in there and it isn't wise to just lay it on the table and forget about it. This is the thank-you I want." She grabbed my wrist and started pulling me toward the only occupied table behind the greenery. Just then I noticed that it was taken by four other girls, all of whom were watching us. "What's your name?"

"Camilla." We reached the table, and Karissa took her seat, patting the empty one next to her. She was sitting next to a girl who had highlights in her brown hair and wore sunglasses that hid her eyes. After looking around awkwardly, I sat down, clenching the purse tighter.

"Guys, this is Camilla. She's the girl who forgot her purse earlier. You know, the purse you wanted me to take the money from and split with all of you." Karissa glared pointedly and most of the girls grinned. I narrowed my eyes.

Wow. Great company she had so far.

One by one, she introduced me to her "friends": Loretta, Viviana, Gemma, and Marisa.

Gemma was the brunette with the sunglasses who refused to show her teeth when she smiled.

Viviana was an African-Italian girl with wide brown eyes. She never stopped smiling. She unnerved me, even though she was friendly enough.

On contrast, Loretta had a fake tan with squinty gray eyes and blonde hair. She just stared at me, her lips pressed into a pale, thin line. Somehow, I _knew_ we weren't going to like each other.

Marisa had an olive complexion and dark hair that was down in a braid over her shoulder. She gazed blankly at me, her lips pursed in deliberation. I was starting to get uncomfortable. _Friends_ hadn't really been in my list of things to do in Volterra—they were a weakness that the vampires could use against you—but I felt like I didn't have to worry about that for half of these girls. Karissa, Gemma and Viviana were the only ones who actually tried to keep a conversation going.

"So, Cam," Viviana started, and I winced. Cam? Eck. I _hated_ nicknames—I was born as Camilla, I was going to die as Camilla, and I did not want to be known as 'Cam' to the community here. "Are you going to Dante Alighieri Institute for school?"

I shook my head. "No. Uh. . . ." I didn't think it was wise to tell them that I had better education than all of them combined, so I went with a lie that would be easy to remember. "I'm homeschooled."

"Oh, that's too bad," Marisa tsked, speaking for the first time. "The girls at school would've_ loved_ you."

Loretta giggled, making me think that Marisa was being sarcastic.

Viviana quickly changed the topic. "So, Cam, have you been introduced to the hotties of Volterra? Because if you haven't, I can tell you already that Alec Lancaster is the hottest guy here, hands down. You know him?"

I blinked. "Um, no. I don't particularly—"

Loretta leaned forward, cutting me off. "Don't worry, I have you covered. I'll tell you about him later. There's Emiliano Bancroft and Lance Jenkins, who are cousins. Lance is from America and living with his uncle's family. He's also dating Gemma, so don't go after him. Emiliano, however, is single and a good screw. . . ."

She continued to list several names of boys while I stared blankly at her. My attention had been lost after she mentioned Alec, because I didn't really want to deal with him. But since when had his surname been Lancaster?

"Since when was Alec's last name Lancaster?" I interrupted, biting my tongue when I realized that that question could've very well blown my lie. Loretta stopped and stared hard at me, her gray eyes shining with cool, newfound interest. Gemma shrugged.

"I don't know . . . maybe since he was born? He's the youngest of the Lancaster family, which is a really big family with traces all over the world, and they're real gorgeous. His twin's older than him. They're really involved with the police to keep their ancestors' home safe, and they're very powerful. Their eyes are weird, though. They're like . . . purple. Like that American lady who just died—Liz something or other, was it?"

"_Purple_?" Now I was confused. When Alec had accompanied me to A Little Bit of Everything, his eyes had been burgundy. Then I recalled Heidi's strange shade of violet eyes and shivered.

Marisa, who looked like she'd been dozing, suddenly straightened and pounded her hand on the stone table to get our attention. "Guys, believe me or not, but Alec Lancaster himself is coming toward _our_ table!"

"Oh my God, like no way," every girl said in some way, save Gemma, Loretta and me. Karissa and Marisa craned their necks to look over my shoulder. I slumped in my seat, rubbing my eyes. Would he _ever _leave me alone?

"Ladies," a horribly familiar smooth voice said behind me. I stiffened, straightening, and out of the corner of my eye it seemed like Marisa and Viviana's eyes actually glazed over. Was that how I had looked like when I'd first met him and in A Little Bit of Everything?

Pathetic.

"Alec," Karissa greeted, not-so-subtly checking him out. I wanted to gag, refusing to believe that these people could be so _stupid_. Gemma was the only one beside me who seemed composed—whether that was because she was more loyal to her boyfriend than I'd originally thought, or because her sunglasses hid her true reaction to him, I didn't know. On second thought, Loretta looked unimpressed too. Maybe the girls weren't as stupid as I'd originally thought.

The only seats available were ones next to me and the squinty-faced blonde sitting across me. Loretta was on the bench across from me, staring at Alec stonily. If he sat next to me, God help him, I would—

He sat on the bench across from me, quelling any fears I'd had instantly. Loretta continued to stare at him stoically and tried to move as indiscreetly as possible so that they weren't touching at all. Wise girl. He wore sunglasses now, with nondescript clothes that didn't stand out here, save that they were all black. Light was fading with the lateness of the day, so his hood wasn't up. The sun was already covered by ominous clouds.

"What brings you here?" Marisa purred. I made a face. Gemma glanced at me and hid her grin behind her hand. Alec gave her a look of distaste and then turned his gaze to me.

I froze. _No. Nonononono. Shut up, bloodsucker. Shut up right now._

"I actually came here to talk to Camilla, but meeting her friends has also proved to be quite nice." He nodded to each of the girls, and I realized why he was here. If he wanted information on me, and he thought I had girlfriends who I was close to. . . .

All of the girls except for Loretta seemed shocked by the turn this conversation had taken, and for a moment I wondered why the squinty-faced blonde seemed so cold towards the vampire.

"No," I said curtly. "I just met them. It won't get you anywhere."

Well. So much for me not knowing who he was.

A shadow of uncertainty crossed over his face, and then he was Mr. Angel again—perfectly composed and untroubled by my words. _Damn_ him. "I doubt that," he replied, his voice even. "I just wanted to talk to you in private. I feel the need to . . . clear up a few matter."

I swallowed, unsure for the first time. Had he come to kill me on orders of Aro? Had I been too suspicious with my little stunts throughout the day? Did they think I was a threat to their precious city of Volterra?

Well, I'd only find out if I went with him . . . which I was not going to do. I was safer in the public eye, where there were witnesses.

"No, thank you," I said, forcing a sweet smile onto my face. Alec's hands twitched, but other than that he showed no signs of frustration. In fact, a pleasant smile came onto his face.

"Alright," he agreed easily. Too easily. I narrowed my eyes, but kept smiling. He got up again, bowed to the girls, and walked around the table at a human pace. I stiffened as his lips brushed my ear.

"Do not try to hide from me. I _will_ seek you out, and I _will_ have answers . . . whether you like it or not."


	6. · The Fifth Chapter ·

**Title:** Bloody Morning: The Fifth Chapter

**Characters/Pairing**: Alec, OCs, and the Volturi.

**Warning/Spoilers**: Swearing is a definite. Rule bending is probable. Realism is a hope. Hold on tight and enjoy the ride~

**A/N**: Okay, I realize I fell off the face of the earth. BUT, I have a new chapter... ish... since I realized that the fifth chapter was actually in the fifth chapter's place. My bad!

**Dedication**: To G, for being my first dance and proving that there still are gentlemen out there in the world. :)

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><p><em>RECAP: As Camilla adjusts to her new life and new house in Volterra, she meets with Alec yet again and starts down the path to gaining some new friends: Marisa, Karissa, Gemma, Viviana and Loretta.<em>

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><p><strong>· The Fifth Chapter ·<strong>

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><p>"<strong>W<strong>hat was that about?" Karissa asked, mirroring my thoughts perfectly.

I turned around to glare at him, but he was gone. The table was alive with chatter as the girls started to gossip about what had just happened. _Omigod! Alec the Hottie was over here at _our_ table! Wait until so-and-so hears about it—they'll be soo jealous._

Please, give me a break. Didn't these girls know the danger they were in by letting him sit in their presence?

"Damn," Gemma said loudly, cutting the current conversation between Karissa, Marisa and Viviana off. "That sexual tension could be cut with a knife, it was so thick!"

I hissed at her words and glanced around the square, panicked. Sure enough, Alec was underneath the shadow of the Palazzo dei Priori, as still as a rock. I facepalmed and groaned before looking up and glaring at her. "Sexual tension? You're kidding me, right? And for God's sake, lower your voices!"

Now that I was thinking about it, the prospect just got more and more horrifying. There wasn't any doubt in my mind that Alec was listening to this mortifying conversation and would use it against me the next time we met.

"She's blushing!" Viviana crowed.

"Am not." I pressed a hand to my face and scowled. Gemma rolled her eyes.

"The lady doth protest too much, methinks," Karissa whispered under her breath. Gemma grinned and Viviana snorted with laughter, reaching over the table and high-fiving her friend. Loretta and Marisa—I had the ridiculous urge to call them the Siamese Cats—only stared at me, their expressions unreadable. They'd been doing that since the time I came to the table.

"Agreed, K. But geez, the next time I'm around you and Alec together . . . Viviana, I want your pocketknife. Anyone like Sex Tension Cake? It tastes like _chocolate_," Gemma sang.

I didn't dare look in Alec's direction. "Shut up! _Shut up_!" I hissed. "_He's going to hear you!_"

They all laughed. "Relax, Cam," Marisa said, taking a sip from her water bottle. "He's all the way across the square. There's no way he'll hear us."

"Just screw him and get it over with," Karissa added with a shrug. "Problem solved."

Oh. My. God. I could not believe the direction that this conversation had taken. These idiots had no idea what they were talking about, did they?

It was getting darker by the minute. Might as well make a clean break and leave. I stood up, indignant and ready to go help the witches with the house. "It's late. I have to go."

Gemma grabbed my wrist before I could move. It was a good thing she had the decency to look apologetic. "Hey, calm down. We were only kidding."

Viviana grabbed my other wrist, and together they pulled me down on the bench.

"She's right," Karissa sighed. "It's getting late. It was nice meeting you, Cam, but don't lie to us, okay? It tends to tarnish what other people think of you. Just saying."

I ducked my head, embarrassed. This was not the way I wanted to be known here. Almost simultaneously, the Siamese Cats stood up and began to walk away with a murmured goodbye and wave.

Viviana smiled at me briefly before standing up and blowing a kiss at Gemma. She climbed over the stone bench and went in an opposite direction—the same one that Karissa was already going. I hadn't even noticed her leave.

Soon it was just me and Gemma. She started to get up, too, and I abruptly panicked and said, "Wait! No. Please. Will you walk home with me?"

She gave me a weird look. ". . . _Why_? We probably don't even live on the same street."

What could I say? That I was afraid that Alec would kidnap me and force me to answer his demands? No, I wouldn't expose her to that. But then, what could I do that would sound plausible to her?

"I'm afraid I'll get lost," I said quietly. With a little popping noise, the lights in the square turned on, making me jump a little. I glanced at the place where Alec had been—of course, now it was empty.

Gemma still didn't take off her sunglasses, which I found a little odd. She didn't answer me for a long time, and I thought she would say no, but then she shrugged. "Sure. Whatever."

I got up, holding Kiera's purse, and led the way. Thankfully, Gemma didn't trail behind at all. I kept glancing around, just waiting for a Volturi leech to show up and take me to their lair for questioning.

"You don't like us, do you?"

I blinked, unprepared for this sudden conversation. "What?"

"You don't like us very much. I saw the way you looked at everyone, Loretta especially. Didn't appear to be very comfortable."

"Oh. Um." I wracked my brain, trying to think of an excuse.

She held up a hand. "Save your breath."

Jesus, were they really that offended at my little white lie? I opened my mouth to protest, but she cut me off before I could.

"Let me say something before you continue," Gemma said. "Her parents are always away on business and are apathetic towards her. We all tolerate Loretta. She's like a puppy, always following us around. She knows we don't particularly care about her, but no one else will take her under their wing as a 'friend'. Marisa is the closest one to her and even _she_ doesn't like her that much. Loretta knows that, and she considers boys and clothes as her only _real_ friends.

"Marisa is Little Miss Perfect and a snobby rich girl. We don't talk about families around her. Her mom killed herself because of postpartum depression. She's the leader of our little group, whether we like it or not, and she's used to getting what she wants.

"Viviana and Karissa are the optimists because they're the ones with a nice happy family. Viviana's older brother is gay, so she's sensitive to those jokes. Karissa has diabetes. So before you judge on whether or not you like a person because of how they _look_ at you, know that there's more to a person than that."

I stared at her, taken aback. I hadn't been expecting her to tell me the back-stories of everyone I'd met at the square. And then something hit me—she hadn't told me hers. Odd.

"What about you?" I whispered. We'd reached the mouth of my alley by now—it wouldn't be long before we got to my house.

"My parents divorced because of me," she said, very quietly.

I immediately felt bad. "Oh, I'm sure that's not—"

"Camilla. Shut up. My mom tells me that was why they divorced, okay? Because of me."

I stopped in front of my house. "Sorry," I murmured instinctively.

"What for?"

"I don't know . . . you seemed mad at me for bringing the divorce up or something. I didn't know." I struggled to find words, and then gave up. As she turned to leave, I whispered, "Thanks for walking with me, Gemma."

A small smile. "No problem. I guess. Hey, where do you live?"

"Why?"

"I need to know where you are so we can come kidnap you in the middle of the night," she said with a straight face. Then she smiled. "No, I'm just joking. Um, because there's gonna be parties that you'll be invited to from here on and I need to find out where you live so I can help you with your hair and makeup and stuff. It's what we girls do all the time."

Ew. Makeup.

I hid a grimace and point to a random house. "That one."

"Okay, thanks." She turned around and walked away without a backward glance.

I took a step back through the little "barrier" the witches had set up, and instantly felt better.

There was a moment of silence. I took another step back, watching Gemma's back to make sure she didn't get lost. She turned the corner and I relaxed, breathing a sigh of relief and turning to go into the house. Suddenly, a figure appeared in front of me.

I stopped dead, feeling my pulse speed up. What the hell? Where had they come from? It was too dark for me to see anything but their willowy silhouette and white blonde hair. There was a popping sound, and then the street light came on. My visitor was a woman.

Before I could examine her properly, she disappeared. I took another step back, then turned and stumbled back to the house. The doorknob wouldn't cooperate and I had to fumble with it for a few seconds before being able to get in, firmly shutting it behind me. The house shuddered with the force of my slam.

"Well. Took you long enough," Anastasia called from somewhere in the house. I rolled my eyes and locked the door. The last person I wanted to deal with right now was Anastasia. I moved into the living room, staring out the window for the woman. Her sudden presence had unnerved me. "By the way, because I know you're very concerned, Kiera isn't here."

I looked up, confused. Little orbs of light hovered around the room and Anastasia, bathing her skin in a ghostly yellow color. They were similar to the things I'd seen her use to entrap Isaac with, which made me slightly wary. "What?"

"Kiera's gone."

Worry flashed through me. "Why? What happened to her?"

She shrugged. "Oh, nothing. She went to talk to Aro; otherwise the vampires would've harassed us until she did. For some reason, he thinks we are the most intriguing race to walk the earth. We've fooled him into thinking that we're powerless, but. . . ."

She had lost my interest by then. I was watching for any movement outside, not paying attention to her. The moon was covered by dark, rolling clouds. A few of my new neighbors' silhouettes came and disappeared into their homes, but that was it. Nothing from the blonde woman I'd seen. It was confusing, as I had never met her before in my life. Could it have been my imagination?

"You're not paying any attention at all to me, are you?"

I sighed. "Sorry, but I kind of don't want to talk to you right now."

She was silent for a little bit, and then she said, "You know, you hurt Kiera with that one comment about mothers and her never being one."

I bristled. "That's none of your business, Anastasia."

She was really starting to annoy me. When had my nerves become this frayed? Maybe Alec was putting a strain on me. Maybe I wasn't fully trained. Maybe I would fail to take down the Volturi.

_Stop_, I told myself. _Negative thoughts will get you nowhere._

The corners of her lips pulled up into a tiny smirk, as if there was some inside joke in that statement. "And I bet you didn't know that Kiera's barren, either."

". . . What?"

"She can't have kids," she said slowly. I blinked, frowning. I knew what barren meant. I wasn't an idiot. And what did that have to do with the current conversation?

"Um. Okay. Why?"

Her smirk grew bigger. "Don't piss me off."

"Wait, huh? You're not making any sense, Anastasia. If we're just going to have a stupid conversation where I don't know what you're trying to say, I'm going to bed," I said irritably, walking over to the place where my bags were. A bottle was lying on top of it—my sleeping pills.

She sighed, as if I was missing something. "Nothing. You just hurt her, is all. She doesn't like being reminded that she can't have children."

I stared at the floor, feeling a little guilty. "Sorry . . . I'm just upset right now. My picture missing isn't helping, either."

"Why are you freaked out? And you mean that picture Kiera showed me earlier today? The one we were arguing over, you mean?"

I blinked, then turned to face her. "Wait, Kiera showed you the picture? She told me _you_ gave it to her."

Anastasia nodded, unsurprised. "My coven mate tends to lie when she thinks it saves her hide. No, she gave it to me and said the baby girl was you." She stopped, then raised an eyebrow. "Why do you care about the picture, anyway?"

I hesitated. Why did I care about the picture? Well . . . I'd already lost my dad to the incompetence of my memory, and I would _not_ lose my mother that way too.

She was the reason I was doing this, after all.

"That picture is all I have left of her," I said quietly, clasping my hands together. "I don't want to lose her like I lost my dad."

She seemed to get what I meant, as her face softened. She looked at the fireplace for a moment and then back at me. "Kiera doubts our magic. She thought it would put you in greater dangers, were a vampire ever to discover it. . . ."

My gaze flickered to the fireplace, too, and suddenly everything clicked together. Why the witches had been fighting before. Why Kiera wanted to be alone when she restored my dad's old bedroom. Why it had smelled like smoke when I went to tell them that I was getting Kiera's purse. Why Anastasia looked so guilty right now.

Oh, no.

I got up and was kneeling at the grate in seconds. Swirling orbs followed me, lighting up the fireplace. I pushed the grate aside, searching for some remnant of my photograph. The ashes were cold, and I couldn't see anything poking out of the gray sand. No! I couldn't lose my mom, never to be remembered again. Not now.

To my extreme relief, my groping fingers found something. It was glossy paper, not wood or ash. I wrapped my fingers around it and stood up, studying the object under the better light.

_995_ was printed neatly on a white slip. The rest of it was smudged with black burn marks. I was shaking as I turned it over. A small black thing, not a burn mark, was in the middle of the picture. It was supported by two arm halves. My toddler butt, maybe? It didn't matter. Thank God I'd found it . . . even if the remains didn't contain anything important. I didn't care about my toddler butt.

I swallowed, unsure of what to do. How would I fix this? Hell, it was _destroyed_.

Wait. If Kiera could renovate old furniture, Anastasia could restore a simple photograph.

"C-can you fix this?" I asked, hating myself for stuttering.

"I can try," Anastasia murmured. "I'm sorry, child. I don't know why Kiera doesn't trust our magic, but everything she does is for the coven's safety. And, like it or not, you are a part of this coven."

I touched my toddler butt. "I can't forget my first family. That would be stupid. The de Luca coven is great to me, and I will always love you guys, but my parents have a place in my heart, too."

She took the picture away from me. "I'll see what I can do. It's time for you to go to bed."

"But. . . ." I looked up at the clock. It was almost ten. How had I managed to stay out that long? Well, I wasn't going to sleep. Not after tonight.

My bookshelf hadn't been moved upstairs yet, so I grabbed a random novel to read and headed upstairs. "_Buonanotte_, Anastasia."

"_Buonanotte_, Camilla."

I realized that none of the floating orbs had followed me upstairs when I reached my bedroom. And the electricity was still off. Damn. I fumbled for an end table to put my novel on and then undressed in the dark. When I was in my pajamas, I climbed into bed and stayed upright, not planning on sleeping.

To keep myself busy, I settled for translating poems I knew into French and Spanish, and staring at the wall. I don't know how long I stayed like that. The silence was finally broken with creaking footsteps on the carpeted stairway. They drew closer, and I craned my neck to stare at the doorway, a feeling of fear overwhelming me. Vampires couldn't get past the barrier, could they? And—and surely Anastasia would be able to fight him off. Unless he rendered her useless. I was trapped, and I couldn't see anything. He had me completely at his mercy.

Goddamn it, god_damn_ it—

The door opened with a haunting groan and I braced myself for my unwanted guest. "Good, you're still awake," Anastasia said. Two golden orbs hovered around her face. I let out a breath I didn't know I'd been holding and slumped against the bedframe. "Kiera's back. And she needs to talk to you."

I kicked off the bedsheets and followed the spinning orbs downstairs. Kiera was pacing in the living room. Anastasia was standing by the arch. Orange and yellow orbs floated around the room, shedding light wherever they went. "What's wrong?" I asked, blinking at the new brightness.

Kiera stopped her pacing and looked at me, her face deadly serious.

"I overheard the Volturi when I went to see them tonight. They're thinking about killing you."

My throat constricted so tightly I could barely breathe.

"_What_?"

* * *

><p><em>Italian wordsphrases:_

_Buonanotte - Goodnight_


	7. · The Sixth Chapter ·

**Title:** Bloody Morning: The Sixth Chapter

**Characters/Pairing**: Volturi : Alec : OCs

**Warning/Spoilers**: Swearing sometime!

**A/N**: Okay, so I realize I've fallen off the face of the earth. My bad! But what I discovered was that I accidentally skipped the REAL chapter five, so you darlings are going to have to backtrack one more to get the new chapter. The good news is, I'm on the eleventh chapter now, and I have a clear view on where I want this to go. No more "let's-paint-the-house" filler chapters. :)

**Dedication**: To Aly-la-Advisor, for putting up with my erratic PMs, questions and plot bunnies. Thanks for everything. :D

* * *

><p><strong>· The Sixth Chapter ·<strong>

* * *

><p>"<strong>B<strong>ut I've only been here a day!" I hissed once I got a grip on what was happening. "Maybe you misunderstood them?"

Kiera shrugged, a frown marring her face. She glanced at Anastasia. "Did they decide to kill her, or are my ears failing me?"

An orb floated by the clock, and I was shocked to discover that it was half-past midnight. Anastasia pursed her lips. "Your ears aren't failing you," she replied, staring at me. "You just entered the conversation at the wrong time. Which reminds me . . . Camilla, I need to talk to you. In private."

"Uh, sure." I nodded, and she led me into the kitchen with Kiera frowning after us. I leaned against the counter and smiled, watching the yellow orbs lighting up random places in the kitchen. "What's up?"

She took a deep breath. "I need you to promise me that, no matter what, you'll act like you're oblivious to the supernatural world. That you won't make a scene in public whenever you see a Volturi guard."

I started to nod, then stopped myself. "Wait, what did you see?"

"Just trust me," she said. "I swear you'll find out later."

I narrowed my eyes. This was an unusual request of her to make. Clearly she was hiding something from me, but I didn't know what, exactly. I didn't know whether to trust her or not.

"Fine," I consented, sighing. "I promise that, when regarding the vampires of Volterra, I will pretend to have no idea what the questioner is talking about. I'll pretend to have no clue about the supernatural world."

"So let this be our oath, only to be released by death," the witch murmured. I felt a sharp stab on my wrist and jumped away from her. My wrist was bleeding. Why, that. . . .

"What was that for?" I shouted, holding my injured wrist. She didn't answer me. Instead, she grabbed my wrist and stretched it out, putting her hand on mine. A powerful feeling I couldn't describe rushed through me.

My eyes widened. Oh, shit. This was a blood oath—why didn't I see it before? Anastasia must've been serious about whatever she had seen. I'd never participated in a blood oath before, but I knew it was to witches what swearing on the river Styx was to the gods in Greek mythology.

The glowing orbs swirling around us blinked out, one by one, until we were in total darkness. Then, there was one bright flash of lightning, blinding me. The loudest thunder I'd ever heard boomed outside, actually rocking the house.

I blinked, and suddenly all of the orbs were back, my wrist was healed, and Anastasia was facing away from me.

"It is done," she announced.

I couldn't have stopped a shiver if I tried.

* * *

><p><strong>T<strong>he next day, three men from A Little Bit of Everything came to my house and said they were here to replace the floorboards. The witches had kicked me out of the house when they found out so they could oversee the projects, and told me to go do something productive.

It was Friday, so I couldn't go talk to the girls because they were at school. I decided that I would get refrigerated groceries today, since the electricity bill was supposed to be paid this morning, and then run. So I grabbed my stolen red wagon and headed for the grocery store. I was humming a song when I entered an alley.

"So . . . you're the famous wagon stealer my family's been talking about," a voice said. I froze, looking around, until my eyes rested on a boy about my age. He was tanned, with black hair and gray eyes. He was smiling, but I didn't relax.

"Can I help you?"

"I just wanted to introduce myself to my family's wagon thief," he said, nodding to the wagon behind me. I pursed my lips, embarrassed. "I'm Emiliano Bancroft."

"Camilla," I muttered.

"What a pretty name. Mind if I join you on your stroll, Camilla?"

Well . . . he was kind of cute. And I could fight him off if he tried anything. That, and his name sounded familiar for some reason. I couldn't remember why, though, so I just shrugged. "Okay, whatever. I'm just getting groceries, and then I'm running."

He snorted. "Beats being at school or in the house."

"And where do you go to school?" I asked. He moved to the side and I continued on my journey to the grocery store.

"Dante Institution. You?"

"I'm . . ." I hesitated. What should I tell him? "I'm homeschooled sometimes."

"By who?"

"My relatives give me notebooks and expect me to study them. They give me tests occasionally," I said. It wasn't totally a lie, but it wasn't the complete truth, either. I pushed the guilt out of my mind and kept walking.

"Um . . . okay. Weird way of being homeschooled. What are you doing in Volterra, then?"

For a second, I toyed with the idea of telling him the truth, just to see what he would say. Almost immediately, my throat closed up. I couldn't speak, or swallow. Even breathing was a struggle. I felt my eyes widen with panic and tried to take a breath. Holy God, what was going on?

I dropped the truth idea, and somehow I could breathe properly again. Emiliano was looking at me strangely. "I just moved here. It seems like a nice town," I whispered, clearing my throat.

He nodded, accepting my answer. "Cool. So did my cousin, Lance. He's living with us for the time being."

I smiled, grateful for the subject change. "Lance? That's an odd name. Where's he from?"

"America." I had to resist rolling my eyes and continued smiling politely. "His mom's in a hospital 'cause of cancer and his dad's in Iraq, so he was sent to live with us for the time being."

"Oh." I wasn't sure what to say to that. "I . . . that sucks."

"Yeah, it does."

We turned the corner, entering the main square of Volterra—and I stopped dead. The Palazzo dei Priori chimed ten.

I'd found what Anastasia saw last night. It was wise of her to make me take the blood oath. My mouth went dry at the sight. Emiliano touched my arm. "Camilla? Are you okay?" he asked.

_No,_ I wanted to say. _No, I'm not. How could the Volturi be so heartless?_

Heidi had given her death tour again—but this time it was to children.

Twenty or so African girls, plus five adult women, were following Heidi, who was in the safety of the shade. The eldest child couldn't have been older than twelve. And I had a sickening feeling that there was no Isaac or air vent to save them this time.

One girl turned around, saw me, and waved. She probably came up to my waist. I couldn't bring myself to wave back. They had no idea what they were walking into—what horror awaited them in the slaughtering room.

I had to do something. I couldn't just watch them march to their deaths.

I tried to take a step forward, but my legs wouldn't move. My hand seemed to be glued to the wagon handle. It was like I was frozen in time. I couldn't even scream a warning to them, or beg Heidi to spare the children.

This had to be what the blood oath was. Anastasia had been serious about this. In that moment, I hated her for keeping me from saving one of the girls' lives. But then I knew that she was just protecting me from the wrath of the Volturi.

When they were out of sight, my body unfroze. Emiliano eyed me, looking uneasy. "Are you sure you're okay, Camilla? You looked like you were going to be sick for a minute there. Or cry. Or both."

I swallowed hard, refusing to break down in front of him. "Do those tours happen often?" I asked thickly.

He looked uncomfortable. "Oh, yeah, all the time. Once every two weeks or so."

"And _no one_ cares?"

"Why should they?" he asked, sounding genuinely puzzled. "It's just a tour, Camilla."

_Just a tour_. He said it like it was no big deal. I tightened my grip on the wagon handle and walked on. I promised myself that I would find an alternate path to the store—one that didn't involve the Palazzo dei Priori or witnessing Heidi bring innocent lives to an end.

Emiliano and I kept up a lively conversation for the whole journey until I was back at my street. He wasn't a bad guy, really. It was just that the little girls following Heidi like lost puppies were engraved in my brain and I couldn't keep my thoughts off of them. I sighed and plastered a fake smile on my face.

"It was a pleasure talking to you, Emiliano," I said sincerely. He grinned.

"Rest assured, the pleasure was all mine." I started grinning ridiculously at his words. "Until next time, Camilla?"

"Ciao!" I watched him go with the same silly smile before someone cleared their throat behind me.

Gemma was glaring at me, her arms crossed. She was still wearing what I guessed to be her school uniform. She didn't look pleased, and I was too shocked at her sudden arrival to say anything. What was with people and popping out of nowhere these days?

"Gemma!" I said, surprised. "Uh . . . what are you doing here?"

I could see her eyes narrow behind her golden sunglasses. "Didn't know your dad was a fat guy who's been hitting the happy juice," she said nonchalantly, not uncrossing her arms.

Now I was confused. "What on earth are you talking about?"

She pointed to the house behind her. "That was the building you told me you lived in. Care to explain?"

Oh.

Shit.

I laughed. "No, I didn't," I said, pointing to the house on my right. "I said I lived in _that_ one."

Her eyes were now officially slits. "Uh-huh. Cut the bull, Cam. I just wanted to invite you to a pool party tomorrow, at noon. If you want to come, that is."

I swallowed. "A pool party? But I don't. . . ."

How could I tell her I didn't know how to swim? _Everyone _knew how to swim. I'd be the biggest loser there was.

Gemma raised an eyebrow, silently prompting me to continue. ". . . have a swim suit," I finished lamely.

She _tsked_. "So Loretta and I will take you shopping. I'll call you so you can meet us outside of wherever you live."

"But, um." I bit my lip. There was no way she wouldn't ditch me after this.

"Yes?"

"I kind of . . . don't have a phone," I admitted in a small voice.

Gemma's mouth dropped open. "Are you serious?"

". . . Yeah." I nodded.

It was true. I'd never had an electronic of any kind when living with the witches; and if I'd previously owned one in Potenza, it was gone now. I didn't have any contact with the outside world for those six years, and I was too busy training or studying anyways. Any leisure time I had was spent playing soccer with Isaac or running.

"Do you have _anything_ electronic, or did you just live under a rock all your life?" she asked, pulling out her phone and texting something.

"My groceries are getting warm. I'll be back," I told her. She turned around, holding the phone to her ear.

"Hey, Loretta? Yeah. It's Gemma. Yeah, we kind of have an emergency. . . ."

I rolled my eyes and tugged the wagon over the boundary line. Hoping that Gemma wouldn't turn around anytime soon, I ferried the water and milk into the fridge. Luckily, the light turned on when I opened the door, so the electricity bill had been paid.

The witches and workers were nowhere to be seen, but I could hear hammering overhead. They were working upstairs, then. I could live with that. When I stepped outside again, finished with my task, Gemma was staring at me.

"You could've told me you lived here, instead of making up a load of bull," she said pointedly when I reached her.

I glanced over my shoulder. "Wait, you can see it?" I asked. Then my throat closed up and I couldn't say anything else.

"Of course I can, Camilla, you dumbass. It's a _house_."

I blinked at her, silent. She sighed. "Come on, we need to meet Loretta at Blum's." With that, she turned on her heel and started walking.

More confused than ever on how she could see it without the turquoise stone, I followed her. My throat wouldn't clear. Trying not to make it obvious or panic, I took several deep breaths through my nose.

Then, when I dropped the topic, my throat cleared up. "Why is Loretta coming?" I asked, clearing my throat. This inability to speak-or-breath thing was starting to get old.

"Because she has a great fashion sense and because you need to get to know her better."

I blinked, not expecting that response. "Oh. Well. Okay."

When we reached Blum's pizzeria, Loretta was waiting for us . . . with two shiny white Vespas.

Any dislike I had had for the squinty-faced blonde disappeared. She beamed when she saw us. "_Ciao_, ladies! Gemma, I know you do, but . . . Cam, do you know how to drive a Vespa?"

I shook my head. "No. But I really want one." I'd been taught to drive a car, though.

"Well, I guess there's no time like the present, yeah? C'mere." She beckoned me forward, and I peered at the Vespa controls. "So here's what you do. It's not much harder than riding a two-wheeler bike, except for the fact that the wheels are way bigger, and the brake is a pedal on the right side of the floorboard. See it?"

I nodded. "The left grip rotates forward, sort of like the opposite of a throttle. The shifting is done with the handlebar, and the gears are marked to make it easier for the driver. Neutral position is between the first and second gear. Usually, it's a 4-speed shift. However, this is a Vespa GTS 200 Super, so you don't have to worry about that."

It seemed simple enough. Then, "Want to try it?"

My mouth went dry. She _had_ to be kidding. "Do you mean that?"

Gemma cleared her throat before she could respond. "Uh, Loretta, remember that emergency I told you about? We don't have time for driving lessons. In a few hours it'll be dark."

Loretta looked surprised. "Oh, right. Well, maybe some other time, Cam." She handed me a matching white helmet, putting hers on and getting on the Vespa. Gemma was doing the same thing beside us.

The blonde looked up at me. "Aren't you coming?"

Oh. Oh, right. I looked down at the helmet in my hands and fastened it on. It was an awkward process, climbing over the Vespa's second seat, but I managed to end up sitting behind Loretta. Now what was I supposed to do?

The Vespa sputtered to life and jerked forward. I gasped, falling backwards. The only thing that kept me from falling off was the metal rim behind me. As it started moving, I lurched forward and grabbed Loretta's shoulders. She didn't seem surprised at this, but I shouted an apology nonetheless.

I squeezed my eyes shut and clung to her shoulders for dear life. After what seemed like forever, the Vespa stopped.

"You can let go of my shoulders now," said Loretta. I pried my fingers off and opened my eyes. Gemma was hiding a smile behind her hand.

"Sorry." I scrambled off the Vespa and took off my helmet, handing it to Loretta. Then I looked around. We were in a parking lot surrounded by buildings. "Where are we?"

"Somewhere outside of Volterra," said Gemma, walking up beside me.

I was not pleased by that answer. "Well, why are we here?"

"Because," Loretta paused dramatically, jumping in front of me and spreading her arms out. "We're going _shopping_!"

* * *

><p><em>Italian wordsphrases:_

_Ciao - hello_


End file.
